Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne

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    In Memory of Mrs. Thellusson.


    Forth of our ways and woes,
    Forth of the winds and snows,
    A white soul soaring goes,
    Winged like a dove:
    So sweet, so pure, so clear,
    So heavenly tempered here,
    Love need not hope or fear her changed above:

    Ere dawned her day to die,
    So heavenly, that on high
    Change could not glorify
    Nor death refine her:
    Pure gold of perfect love,
    On earth like heavens own dove,
    She cannot wear, above, a smile diviner.

    Her voice in heavens own quire
    Can sound no heavenlier lyre
    Than here no purer fire
    Her soul can soar:
    No sweeter stars her eyes
    In unimagined skies
    Beyond our sight can rise than here before,

    Hardly long years had shed
    Their shadows on her head:
    Hardly we think her dead,
    Who hardly thought her
    Old: hardly can believe
    The grief our hearts receive
    And wonder while they grieve, as wrong were wrought her.

    But though strong grief be strong
    No word or thought of wrong
    May stain the trembling song,
    Wring the bruised heart,
    That sounds or sighs its faint
    Low note of love, nor taint
    Grief for so sweet a saint, when such depart.

    A saint whose perfect soul,
    With perfect love for goal,
    Faith hardly might control,
    Creeds might not harden:
    A flower more splendid far
    Than the most radiant star
    Seen here of all that are in Gods own garden.

    Surely the stars we see
    Rise and relapse as we,
    And change and set, may be
    But shadows too:
    But spirits that mans lot
    Could neither mar nor spot
    Like these false lights are not, being heavenly true.

    Not like these dying lights
    Of worlds whose glory smites
    The passage of the nights
    Through heavens blind prison:
    Not like their souls who see,
    If thought fly far and free,
    No heavenlier heaven to be for souls rerisen.

    A soul wherein love shone
    Even like the sun, alone,
    With fervour of its own
    And splendour fed,
    Made by no creeds less kind
    Toward souls by none confined,
    Could Deaths self quench or blind, Loves self were dead.

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Type of Poem: Elegy

Date Written:

Date Published:

Language: English

Keywords: Public Domain

Source: Public Domain Collection

Publisher:

Rights/Permissions: Public Domain

Comments/Notes: This elegiac poem is a tribute to Mrs. Thellusson, and it explores themes of mortality, purity, and the enduring nature of love. The poet uses the metaphor of a white dove, a symbol of peace and spiritual purity, to convey the idea of the soul's ascension towards the divine. There is a powerful sense of admiration and reverence for the deceased, whose soul is repeatedly described as pure, heavenly, and love-filled.

The poem is characterized by a somber yet serene tone, effectively capturing the sadness of loss while also celebrating the deceased's spiritual journey. The repeated use of the word "hardly" underscores the difficulty in accepting the reality of her passing. The structure is complex, with each stanza offering a new perspective on the theme of death and the afterlife. The poet employs paradoxes, such as "change could not glorify / Nor death refine her," suggesting that her soul was so pure that even death could not enhance it. The poem's imagery of celestial bodies and natural elements also contributes to its ethereal quality.

The use of the phrase "perfect love" serves as a testament to the deceased's character, embodying the virtues of humility, selflessness, and boundless love. In the penultimate stanza, the poet contrasts the fleeting nature of worldly glories with the enduring beauty of a pure soul, asserting the superiority of spiritual truth over earthly illusions. The final stanza culminates in the assertion that even death cannot quench such a love-filled spirit. The poem thus elevates Mrs. Thellusson to a saintly status, and through this, it offers comfort and solace in the face of grief.