Algernon Charles Swinburne on Weather

“In fierce March weather White waves break tether, And whirled together At either hand, Like weeds uplifted The tree trunks rifted.”

“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 pasture or gray grief; If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf.”