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The Glebe 1913/09 (Vol. 1, No. 1)

SWINBURNE

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Algernon Swinburne, is there not in thee Something akin to bells that ring at sea? In their sound so clear There is little cheer, When their knell I hear I recoil with fear. Though thy voice be clear as the day’s light, It is pregnant with mystery, death, and night.

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