Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/198
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THE SWALLOW'S RETURN.
At distance dying; and the measured stroke
Of woodmen at their toil; the feeble wail
Of some lone stock-dove, soothing, as it sank
On the lulled ear, its melody that drank.
Of woodmen at their toil; the feeble wail
Of some lone stock-dove, soothing, as it sank
On the lulled ear, its melody that drank.
The sun had set; but his expiring beams
Yet lingered in the west, and shed around
Beauty and softness o'er the wood and streams,
With coming night's first tinge of shade imbrowned,
The light clouds mingled, brightened with such gleams
Of glory, as the seraph-shapes surround,
That in the vision of the good descend,
And o'er their couch of sorrow seem to bend.
Yet lingered in the west, and shed around
Beauty and softness o'er the wood and streams,
With coming night's first tinge of shade imbrowned,
The light clouds mingled, brightened with such gleams
Of glory, as the seraph-shapes surround,
That in the vision of the good descend,
And o'er their couch of sorrow seem to bend.
'Tis thus in solitude; but sweeter far,
By those we love, in that all-softening hour,
To watch with mutual eyes each coming star,
And the faint moon-rays streaming through our bower
Of foliage, wreathed and trembling, as the car
Of night rolls duskier onward, and each flower
And shrub that droops above us, on the sense
Seems dropping fragrance more and more intense.
By those we love, in that all-softening hour,
To watch with mutual eyes each coming star,
And the faint moon-rays streaming through our bower
Of foliage, wreathed and trembling, as the car
Of night rolls duskier onward, and each flower
And shrub that droops above us, on the sense
Seems dropping fragrance more and more intense.
The Swallow's Return.
Welcome, welcome, feathered stranger!
Now the sun bids Nature smile;
Safe arrived, and free from danger,
Welcome to our blooming isle;
Still twitter on my lowly roof,
And hail me at the dawn of day,
Each morn the recollected proof
Of time that ever fleets away!
Now the sun bids Nature smile;
Safe arrived, and free from danger,
Welcome to our blooming isle;
Still twitter on my lowly roof,
And hail me at the dawn of day,
Each morn the recollected proof
Of time that ever fleets away!
Fond of sunshine, fond of shade,
Fond of skies serene and clear,
Even transient storms thy joys invade
In fairest seasons of the year;
What makes thee seek a milder clime?—
What bids thee shun the wintry gale?—
How knowest thou thy departing time?
Hail! wondrous bird; hail, swallow, hail!
Fond of skies serene and clear,
Even transient storms thy joys invade
In fairest seasons of the year;
What makes thee seek a milder clime?—
What bids thee shun the wintry gale?—
How knowest thou thy departing time?
Hail! wondrous bird; hail, swallow, hail!
Sure something more to thee is given
Than myriads of the feathered race,
Some gift divine, some spark from heaven,
That guides thy flight from place to place!
Than myriads of the feathered race,
Some gift divine, some spark from heaven,
That guides thy flight from place to place!