 A MATCH by Algernon Charles Swinburne Red for LibriVox.org by Brian Dirks If love were what the rose is, and I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together in sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pleasure or gray grief. If love were what the rose is, and I were like the leaf, If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are, that get sweet rain at noon. If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, We'd shine and snow together, air march made sweet the weather, With daffodil and starling and hours of fruitful breath, If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were paged to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons with loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and morrow, and laughs of maid and boy. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were paged to joy, If you were April's lady, and I were Lord and May, We'd throw with leaves for hours and draw for days with flowers, If April's day like night were shady, and night were bright like day, If you were April's lady, and I were Lord and May. If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, and find his mouth a reign. If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A MATCH by Algernon Charles Swinburne Read for LibriVox.org by Bruce Kachuk If love were what the rose is, and I were like the leaf, If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight our lips would grow together, In sad or singing weather, blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pleasure or gray grief, if love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf. With single delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are, That get sweet rain at noon, if I were what the words are, And love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, and I, your love, were death, If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons, and we'd play for lives and seasons, If you were life, my darling, and I, your love, were death. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons, with loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and morrow, and laughs of maid and boy, If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours, and draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady, and night were bright like day, If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, and find his mouth a reign, If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain. If love were what the roses, and I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together in sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, green pleasure or grey grief, If love were what the roses, and I were like the leaf, If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, With double sound and single, delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are, that get sweet rain at noon, If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, If you were life my darling, and I your love were death, We'd shine and snow together, air march made sweet the weather, With daffodil and starling, and hours of fruitful breath, If you were life my darling, and I your love were death, If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons, with loving looks and seasons, And tears of night and marrow, and laughs of maid and boy, If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, If you were April's lady, and I were Lord and May, We'd throw with leaves for hours, and draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady, and night were bright like day, If you were April's lady, and I were Lord and May, If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, and find his mouth a reign, If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A match by Algernon Charles Swinburne, read for LibriVox.org by Eva Davis. If love were what the rose is, and I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together, and sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, green pleasure or gray grief, If love were what the rose is, and I were like the leaf. If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are that get sweet rain at noon, If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, We'd shine and snow together, air march made sweet the weather, With daffodil and starling and hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons with loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and morrow, and laughs of maid and boy. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy. If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours, and draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady, and night were bright like day, If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May. If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, and find his mouth a reign. If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Match by Algernon Charles Swinburne Read for LibriVox.org by Newgate Novelist If love were what the rose is, and I were like the leaf, How lives would grow together in sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closets, green pleasure or grey grief. If love were what the rose is, and I were like the leaf, If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are that get sweet rain at noon, If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, We'd shine and snow together ere March made sweet the weather With daffodil and starling, and hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons with loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and morrow, and laughs of maid and boy. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours and draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady, and night were bright like day. If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, and find his mouth a reign. If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The door singing weather, load fields of loveful closes, Green pleasure of grief, if love were what the roses, And I were like the leaf. If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune, with double sound and single, Delight our lips would linger, with kisses glad as birds are, But get sweet rain at noon, if I were what the words are, And love were like the tune. If you were life my darling, And I all of were death, we'd shine and snow together, Here March meets with the weather, with death, a deal and sulling, And there's a fruitful breath, if you were life my darling. All too sorrow, and I were page two joy, With playful lives and seasons, with loving looks and reasons, And tears of night and sorrow, and loves of maiden boy, If you were thrall too sorrow, and I were page two joy, If you were April's lady, and I were Lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours, and draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady, and night were bright like day, If you were April's lady, and I were Lord in May, If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, and find his mouth the rain, If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Blown fields or flowerful closes, green pleasure or grey grief, If love were what the roses, and I were like the leaf. If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are, that get sweet rain at noon. If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, We'd shine and snow together, and March made sweet the weather, With daffodil and starling, and hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons, with loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and morrow, and laughs of maid and boy. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy. If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours, and draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady, and night were bright like day, If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May. If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, and find his mouth a reign. If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Your lives would grow together in sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, green pleasure or grey grief, If love were what the rose is, and I were like the leaf. If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are that get sweet rain at noon, If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, We'd shine and snow together, air-march made sweet the weather, With daffodil and starling and hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons with loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and morrow, and laughs of maid and boy. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy. If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours, and draw for days with flowers, Till day like night was shady, and night were bright like day. If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May. If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, and find his mouth a reign. If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The lives would grow together in sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, green pleasure or gray grief. If love were what the roses, and I were like the leaf. If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are that get sweet rain at noon. If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, We'd shine and snow together, and march made sweet the weather, With daffodil and starling and hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons with loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and morrow, and laughs of maid and boy, If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy. If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours, and draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady, and night were bright like day. If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, and find his mouth a rain, If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain. This recording is in the public domain. A MATCH by Algenon Charles Swinburne, RedForlyPrivate.org by Ian King If love were what the roses, and I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together in sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pleasure or grey grief. If love were what the roses, and I were like the leaf, If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are, that get sweet rain at noon. If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, We'd shine and snow together, air march made sweet the weather, With daffodil and starling, and hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons, with loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and morrow, and laughs of maid and boy. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy. If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours, and draw for days with flowers, Till day, like night were shady, and night were bright like day. If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, and find his mouth a reign. If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain. A MATCH If love were what the roses, and I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together in sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, green pleasure or gray grief. If love were what the roses, and I were like the leaf, If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are that get sweet rain at noon. If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, If you were life, my darling, and I your love or death, We'd shine and snow together, air march made sweet the weather, With daffodil and starling, and hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, and I your love or death, If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons, with loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and marrow, and laughs of maiden boy. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were page to joy. If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours, and draw for days with flowers, Till night like day were shady, and night were bright like day. If you were April's lady, and I were lord in May, If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet to measure, and find his mouth a reign. If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A match by Algernon Charles Swinbird. Read for LibriVox.org by Kevin S. If love were what the rose is, and I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together in sad or seeing weather, Blown fields or powerful closest, Green pleasure or gray grief. If love were what the rose is, and I were like the leaf, If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are that get sweet rain at noon. If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, Would shine and snow together, air march made sweet the weather With daffodil and starling and hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were paged to joy, Would play for lives and seasons with loving looks And treasons and tears of light and morrow, And laughs of maid and boy, you were thrall to sorrow, And I were paged to joy. If you were April's lady, and I were Lord in May, Would throw with leaves for hours and draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady, and night were bright like day. If you were April's lady, and I were Lord in May, If you were Queen of Pleasure, and I were King of Pain, Would hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, and find his mouth a reign. If you were Queen of Pleasure, and I were King of Pain, And a poem, this recording is in the public domain. If love were what the rose is, and I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together in sad or singing weather. Blown fields or flowerful closes, green pleasure or gray grief. If love were what the rose is, and I were like the leaf. If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight our lips would mingle. With kisses glad as birds are, that get sweet rain at noon. If I were what the words are, and love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, Would shine and snow together, air march made sweet the weather, With daffodil and starling, and hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were paged to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons with loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and moral, and laughs of maid and boy. If you were thrall to sorrow, and I were paged to joy. If you were April's lady, and I were Lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours, and draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady, and night were bright like day. If you were April's lady, and I were Lord in May, If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure to find his mouth a ring. If you were queen of pleasure, and I were king of pain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A match by Algernon Charles Swinburne, read for LibriVox.org by Marabella. If love were what the roses and I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together in sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, green pleasure or gray grief. If love were what the roses and I were like the leaf, If I were what the words are and love were like the tune, With double sound and single to light, our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are, they'd get sweet rain at noon, If I were what the words are and love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death, We'd shine and snow together, air march made sweet the weather, With daffodil and starling and hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, and I your love were death. If you were thrall to sorrow and I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons with loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and morrow and laughs of maid and boy. If you were thrall to sorrow and I were page to joy. If you were April's lady and I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours and draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady and night were bright like day. If you were April's lady and I were lord in May. If you were queen of pleasure and I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure and find his mouth a reign. If you were queen of pleasure and I were king of pain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Match by Elginon Cheryl Swinburne, Read for LibriVox.org by Marie Cox. If love were what the roses and I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together in sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pleasure or gray grief. If love were what the roses and I were like the leaf. If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are, That get sweet rain at noon. If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, And I your love were death, We'd shine in snow together, Air march made sweet the weather, With daffodil and starling and hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, And I your love were death. If you were thrall to sorrow, And I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons With loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and morrow And laughs of maid and boy. If you were thrall to sorrow, And I were page to joy. If you were April's lady, And I were Lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours And draw for days with flowers Till day like night were shady And night were bright like day. If you were queen of pleasure, And I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, Pluck out his flying feather And teach his feet a measure, And find his mouth a rain. If you were queen of pleasure, And I were king of pain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pleasure or gray grief. If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf. If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight, Our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are That get sweet rain at noon. If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, And I your love were death, We'd shine and snow together, Air march made sweet the weather With daffodil and starling And hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, And I your love were death, And I your love were death, If you were thrall to sorrow, And I were paged to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons With loving looks and treasons And tears of night and morrow And laughs of maiden boy. If you were thrall to sorrow, And I were paged to joy, If you were April's lady, And I were Lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours And draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady, And night were bright like day. If you were April's lady, And I were Lord in May. If you were queen of pleasure, And I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, Pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, And find his mouth a reign. If you were queen of pleasure, And I were king of pain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Match by Algernon Charles Swinburne Read for LibriVox.org by Thomas Peter. If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pleasure or gray grief, If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf. If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune, With double sound and single, Delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are That get sweet rain at noon, If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, And I, your love were death, We'd shine and snow together, Air march made sweet the weather, With daffodil and starling, And hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, And I, your love were death, If you were thrall to sorrow, And I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons, With loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and moral, And laughs of maid and boy, If you were thrall to sorrow, And I were page to joy. If you were April's lady, And I were Lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours, And draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady, And night were bright like day. If you were April's lady, And I were Lord in May. If you were queen of pleasure, And I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, Pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, And find his mouth a reign. If you were queen of pleasure, And I were king of pain. If love were like the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together, In sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pleasure or gray grief. If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf. If I were what the words are, And love were like the tears, And love were like the tune, With double sound and single delight Our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are, That get sweet rain at noon. If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune. If you were life, my darling, And I your love were death, Would shine and snow together, Air march made sweet the weather With daffodil and starling, And hours of fruitful breath. If you were life, my darling, And I your love were death. If you were thrall to sorrow, And I were page to joy, Would play for lives and seasons, With loving looks and treasons, And tears of night and morrow, And laughs of maid and boy. If you were thrall to sorrow, And I were page to joy. If you were April's lady, And I were lord in May, Would throw with leaves for hours, And draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady, And night were bright like day. If you were April's lady, And I were lord in May. If you were queen of pleasure, And I were king of pain, Would hunt down love together, Pluck out his flying feather, And teach his feet a measure, And find his mouth a rain. If you were queen of pleasure, And I were king of pain.