Classic Poem

I

O SWALLOW , flying by windy ways.
Over leagues of white sea-foam,
To the nest you left in the autumn days
Under eaves of an English home —
Voyage right swiftly, wandering bird,
A speck in the distant blue,
For the pulse of life in the leaves is stirred,
And white doves coo.

II

Have you wintered away in the Cyclades
Or on marge of mysterious Nile?
No matter, so that the summer sees
You back in our western isle.
But come, more swift than the sailing ship,
For the skies are calm and clear,
And I long to see your brown wing dip
In stream and mere.

III

Yes, I long for the magic of indolent hours,
The glamour of amorous eyes,
When the breeze which fluttered 'mid fern and flowers
In the noon's rich languor dies,
When bees grow drowsy in honey-bells,
And the brown lark sleeps in his nest,
And a vernal vision of gladness swells
One soft white breast.

IV

Yes, I long to float on a haunted lake,
And the weary past forget,
And the thirst of my restless heart to slake
With the songs of Amoret.
So, hither, swallow, from Memphian fane,
Or Greek isle set in the blue:
Fly fast to your English home again —
Love comes with you.