Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE SWALLOWS, by AUGUSTE LACAUSSADE

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TO THE SWALLOWS, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Swift-winged wanderers, in your race
Last Line: And the sun accompany.
Subject(s): Swallows

SWIFT-WINGED wanderers, in your race
Almost do you touch my face;
Yet ne'er fear in circling flight
To approach, however nigh;
Flash down from the azure sky,
For you fill me with delight.

Of golden months and genial days,
Welcome heralds, wing your ways.
Sisters! I your advent wait,
For, like you, Spring makes me glad,
And the meadows verdure clad;
And, like you, the cold I hate.

Ye who from the dawning come,
Bringing sunshine from your home,
Tell us of the winter o'er,
Of the year its youth resuming,
Nests a-building, flowers a-blooming,
Tell us of bright days in store.

Tell of suns and rivers bright,
Tell of fields with harvest white,
Golden days and forests green,
Earth at length awake again,
Which lay dead in frost and rain
'Neath the winter cold and keen.

Winter makes the sick earth die,
Trees lose all their mystery.
Of birds and bards, the icy wing
Of the frozen northern wing
Stills the voice and numbs the mind,
Neither has the heart to sing.

Streams are silent, skies are grey,
All things perish, hid away
In a snowy winding sheet.
Happy they who then repair
To some climate warm and fair,
Where again they summer greet.

Roving swallows, happy crew!
Oh, if I had wings like you,
I to balmy realms would fly;
I would leave dark clouds behind,
Gloom, and cold, and piercing wind,
And the sun accompany.

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