PAX OPTIMA RERUM 



The sun burns scar and the rain dishevels 



One gaunt bleak blossom of scentless breath. 

 Only the wind here hovers and revels 



In a round where life seems barren as death. 

 Here there was laughing of old, there was weep- 

 ing, 



Haply, of lovers none ever will know, 

 Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleeping 



Years ago. 



All are at one now, roses and lovers, 



Not known of the cliffs and the fields and the 



sea. 



Not a breath of the time that has been hovers 

 In the air now soft with a summer to be. 

 Not a breath shall there sweeten the seasons 



hereafter 

 Of the flowers or the lovers that laugh now 



or weep, 

 When as they that are free now of weeping and 



laughter 

 We shall sleep. 



A. C. SWINBURNE. 

 (Poems and Ballads.) 



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