Here you will find the Poem Madona Mia of poet Algernon Charles Swinburne
UNDER green apple-boughs That never a storm will rouse, My lady hath her house Between two bowers; In either of the twain Red roses full of rain; She hath for bondwomen All kind of flowers. She hath no handmaid fair To draw her curled gold hair Through rings of gold that bear Her whole hair?s weight; She hath no maids to stand Gold-clothed on either hand; In all the great green land None is so great. She hath no more to wear But one white hood of vair Drawn over eyes and hair, Wrought with strange gold, Made for some great queen?s head, Some fair great queen since dead; And one strait gown of red Against the cold. Beneath her eyelids deep Love lying seems asleep, Love, swift to wake, to weep, To laugh, to gaze; Her breasts are like white birds, And all her gracious words As water-grass to herds In the June-days. To her all dews that fall And rains are musical; Her flowers are fed from all, Her joy from these; In the deep-feathered firs Their gift of joy is hers, In the least breath that stirs Across the trees. She grows with greenest leaves, Ripens with reddest sheaves, Forgets, remembers, grieves, And is not sad; The quiet lands and skies Leave light upon her eyes; None knows her, weak or wise, Or tired or glad. None knows, none understands, What flowers are like her hands; Though you should search all lands Wherein time grows, What snows are like her feet, Though his eyes burn with heat Through gazing on my sweet, Yet no man knows. Only this thing is said; That white and gold and red, God?s three chief words, man?s bread And oil and wine, Were given her for dowers, And kingdom of all hours, And grace of goodly flowers And various vine. This is my lady?s praise: God after many days Wrought her in unknown ways, In sunset lands; This was my lady?s birth; God gave her might and mirth And laid his whole sweet earth Between her hands. Under deep apple-boughs My lady hath her house; She wears upon her brows The flower thereof; All saying but what God saith To her is as vain breath; She is more strong than death, Being strong as love.