The Swinburne stomp
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Ain't no body swine like the Swinburne stomp...
(frog did it)

The Swinburne stomp (yay)

Before the beginning of years
There came to the making of man
Time, with a gift of tears;
Grief, with a glass that ran;
Pleasure, with pain for leaven;
Summer, with flowers that fell;
Remembrance fallen from heaven
And madness risen from hell;
Strength without hands to smite;
Love that endures for a breath:
Night the shadow of light
And life, the shadow of death

And the high gods took in hand
Fire, and the falling of tears
And a measure of sliding sand
From under the feet of the years;
And froth and drift of the sea;
And dust of the labouring earth;
And bodies of things to be
In the houses of death and of birth;
And wrought with weeping and laughter
And fashioned with loathing and love
With life before and after
And death beneath and above
For a day and a night and a morrow
That his strength might endure for a span
With travail and heavy sorrow
The holy spirit of man
From the winds of the north and the south
They gathered as unto strife;
They breathed upon his mouth
They filled his body with life;
Eyesight and speech they wrought
For the veils of the soul therein
A time for labour and thought
A time to serve and to sin;
They gave him light in his ways
And love, and a space for delight
And beauty and length of days
And night, and sleep in the night
His speech is a burning fire;
With his lips he travaileth;
In his heart is a blind desire
In his eyes foreknowledge of death;
He weaves, and is clothed with derision;
Sows, and he shall not reap;
His life is a watch or a vision
Between a sleep and a sleep