Classic Poem

Swallow, tardy swallow,
Hasten your returning,
Spring's already burning
In every heart and hollow.

Swift with exultation,
Flames are sweeping over
Towns and fields of clover,
Men and all creation.

Only she, my own,
Greets me unaffected;
Still the same—a resurrected
Sappho—carved in stone.

Earth and I reprove her
But she listens dumbly;
Nothing seems to move her—
She is too calm and comely…

Leave her, oh leave her,
Winter's disdains,
Earth, put the fever
Into her veins,
Lash out the coldness
Till with a start,
Half-blushing boldness
Quickens her heart;
Burn her with wildness,
Burn—till the sting
Rouses her mildness,
Fires her with Spring!