Algernon Charles Swinburne: The Springtide of LifeAbbildungDeskriptionE. A. Poe: Alone

Algernon Charles Swinburne: The Springtide of Life

“For children in their most impressionable years, there is, in fantasy, the highest of stimulating and educational powers.” — Rackham

Algernon Charles Swinburne:

The Springtide of Life. Poems of Childhood by Algernon Charles Swinburne with a Preface by Edmund Gosse. Illustrated by Arthur Rackham.

London: William Heinemann, 1918.

Royal Octavo. 245 × 183 mm. [4], ix, [1 blank], 132, [2] pp. With colour frontispiece and seven full-page colour illustration, and 52 drawings.

Green morocco-backed boards, five raised bands, spine gilt in compartments with title and ornaments, original olive buckram with pictorial stamping in gold preserved and laid in on upper and lower cover. Top edge tinted green. Upper pictorial endpapers bound in.

Delicate illustrations with wonderful use of fine line and colour by Arthur Rackham. “As the close of his life appoached, Swinburne frequently expressed his intention to extract from his various volumes those poems which were addressed to children, or were descriptive of child life, and to publish them in a separate collection” (from the preface).

Fine. A very attractive binding.

Handgefertigter Halblederband mit Rücken und breiten Ecken aus dunkelgrünem Maroquin, fünf erhabene Bünde, auf zweitem und viertem Feld der goldgeprägte Titel, unten das Jahr, die anderen Felder mit einem Ornament versehen. Der olivgrüne Orignal-Deckelbezug erhalten und vorn sowie hinten aufgezogen. Kopfschnitt grün, vorderer illustrierter Originalvorsatz miteingebunden.

First Rackham Edition. Latimore/Hakell 48. Not mentioned by Wise – The Arthur Rackham Society: About Arthur Rackham.


Edgar Allan Poe: Alone

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I lov’d — I lov’d alone —
Then — in my childhood — in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain —
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by —
From the thunder, and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —