That fellow had eyes, and he had certainly seen color and flashing light.

But who was Swinburne?
Was he dead a hundred years or so, like most of the poets?
Or was he alive still, and writing?
He turned to the title-page.

.

.

yes, he had written other books; well, he would go to the free library the first thing in the morning and try to get hold of some of Swinburne's stuff.