Classic Poem

Over the eaves where the sunbeams fall
Twitters the swallow;
I hear from the mountains the cataract call:
Follow, oh, follow!

Buds on the bushes and blooms on the mead
Swiftly are swelling;
Hark! the Spring whispereth: “Make ye with speed
Ready my dwelling.”

Out of the tremulous blue of the air
Calling before her,
Who was it bade me “Awake and prepare,
Thou mine adorer!”

“Leave me,” I said; “I have known thee of old,
Love the annoyer,
Arming, at last, with thine arrows of gold,
Time, the Destroyer.”

“Follow,” he laughed, “where the bliss of the earth
Wooes thee, compelling;
Yet in the Spring, and her thousand-fold birth,
I, too, am dwelling.”

Out of the buds he was peeping, and sang
Soft with the swallow;
Yea, and he called where the cataract sprang:
Follow, oh, follow!
Vain to defy, or evade, or, in sooth,
Bid him to leave me!
But his deception is dearer than truth:
Let him deceive me!