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Poems and Ballads
Madonna Mia

by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Under green apple-boughs 
That never a storm will rouse, 
My lady hath her house 
Between two bowers; 
In either of the twain 
Red roses full of rain; 
She hath for bondwomen 
All kind of flowers.


She hath no handmaid fair 
To draw her curled gold hair 
Through rings of gold that bear 
Her whole hair's weight; 
She hath no maids to stand 
Gold-clothed on either hand; 
In all the great green land 
None is so great.


She hath no more to wear 
But one white hood of vair 
Drawn over eyes and hair, 
Wrought with strange gold, 
Made for some great queen's head, 
Some fair great queen since dead; 
And one strait gown of red 
Against the cold.


Beneath her eyelids deep 
Love lying seems asleep, 
Love, swift to wake, to weep, 
To laugh, to gaze; 
Her breasts are like white birds, 
And all her gracious words 
As water-grass to herds 
In the June-days.


To her all dews that fall 
And rains are musical; 
Her flowers are fed from all, 
Her joy from these; 
In the deep-feathered firs 
Their gift of joy is hers, 
In the least breath that stirs 
Across the trees.


She grows with greenest leaves, 
Ripens with reddest sheaves, 
Forgets, remembers, grieves, 
And is not sad; 
The quiet lands and skies 
Leave light upon her eyes; 
None knows her, weak or wise, 
Or tired or glad.


None knows, none understands, 
What flowers are like her hands; 
Though you should search all lands 
Wherein time grows, 
What snows are like her feet, 
Though his eyes burn with heat 
Through gazing on my sweet, 
Yet no man knows.


Only this thing is said; 
That white and gold and red, 
God's three chief words, man's bread 
And oil and wine, 
Were given her for dowers, 
And kingdom of all hours, 
And grace of goodly flowers 
And various vine.


This is my lady's praise: 
God after many days 
Wrought her in unknown ways, 
In sunset lands; 
This was my lady's birth; 
God gave her might and mirth 
And laid his whole sweet earth 
Between her hands.


Under deep apple-boughs 
My lady hath her house; 
She wears upon her brows 
The flower thereof; 
All saying but what God saith 
To her is as vain breath; 
She is more strong than death, 
Being strong as love.


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