Monologue

Mary Hamilton Monologue from Chastelard, a Tragedy

From Chastelard, a Tragedy by Algernon Charles Swinburne

female · melancholic · 45 sec

They are well gone; but pull the lattice in, The wind is like a blade aslant. Would God I could get back one day I think upon: The day we four and some six after us Sat in that Louvre garden and plucked fruits To cast love-lots with in the gathered grapes; This way: you shut your eyes and reach and pluck, And catch a lover for each grape you get. I got but one, a green one, and it broke Between my fingers and it ran down through them.

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