 A match by Algernon Charles Swinburne, read for LibriVox.org by Ada Kerman, Portland, Oregon. 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 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. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Match by Algernon Charles Swinburne, read for LibriVox.org by Anquila. 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 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 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 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. End of Poem. This recording is in the public domain. If you 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, 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, until 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 Caitlyn Hire. If love were what the roses and I were like the leaf, our lives would grow together in sad or singing weather, blown field to 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 ere March made sweet the weather, with death-a-dill 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. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Match by Algin and Charles Swinburne, read for LibriVox.org by Beth Peat at Reading UK. 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-marked made sweet the weather with daffodils and starlings 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 maiden 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 to 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. A Match by Algernon Charles Swinburne Read for LibriVox.org by Giles Baker If love were what the roses and I were like the leaf, our lives would grow together in sad or singing whether 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 daffodils 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 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. 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 throw with leaves for hours and seasons with loving looks and tears of night and morrow and laughs of maid and boy, if you were queen of pleasure and I was king of pain, we'd round 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 rain. 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 Charles Swinburne. Read for LibriVox.org by Lucy Burgoyne. 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 bring 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, a match made sweet the weather, with daffodil and starling and ours a fruitful breath. If you were life my darling and I your love were death, if you were thrilled 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 thrilled 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 and measure and find his mouth arraign. 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 a 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 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 paged to joy, we'd play for lives and seasons with loving looks and treasons and tears of nights 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 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, Disrecording