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All loves and dreams and sounds and gleams of night Made it all music that such minstrels may,
And all they had they gave it of delight; But in the full face of the fire of day
What place shall be for any starry light,
What part of heaven in all the wide sun's way ?
Yet the soul woke not, sleeping by the way,
Watched as a nursling of the large eyed night,
And sought nor strength nor knowledge of the day Nor closer touch conclusive of delight,
Nor mightier joy nor truer than dreamers may, Nor more of song than they, nor more of light.
For who sleeps once and sees the secret light Whereby sleep shows the soul a fairer way
Between the rise and rest of day and night, Shall care no more to fare as all men may,
But be his place of pain or of delight,
There shall he dwell, beholding night as day.
Song, have thy day and take thy fill of light
Before the night be fallen across thy way ; Sing while he may, man hath no long delight.
Algernon Charles Swinburne.
The Triolet is, indeed, a poetic morsel, with rigid rules and very little room to expand even a single thought. It is an eight-line stanza with two rhymes. The first line is repeated as the fourth and seventh, and the second and the eighth are alike :
When first we met, we did not guess
That Love would prove so hard a master; Of more than common friendliness