Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ODE TO THE SWALLOW, by CHARLES WHITWORTH WYNNE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ODE TO THE SWALLOW, by                    
First Line: Thou bringest summer on thy steel-blue pinions!
Last Line: Low whispereth, 'summer—summer is fled!'
Alternate Author Name(s): Cayzer, Charles
Subject(s): Swallows


I

THOU bringest Summer on thy steel-blue pinions!
Whom laughter-loving April could not lure
From thy sun-girdled, over-sea dominions,
The maiden May, with drooping lids demure,
Hath drawn: and all her opening heart is thine,
Full of the fragrance of expanding buds,
The bourgeoning and bridals of the year.
Winter, so long delay'd through storm and shine,
Gives place at last—for see thy helpmate scuds
Along the meads! Summer—Summer is here!

II

Tho' few thy seasons, still thy magic gleaning
Hath taught thee April lingers into May;
But who hath taught the mystery and meaning
Of the vex'd wind and variable way?
Over the passage of the lonesome deep
Thou wing'st secure, to rear thy callow broods
In shelter of our close-projecting eaves,
To watch and ward their heavy-lidded sleep.
So the still mind, through thy maternal moods,
Nature's undeviating course perceives.

III

O blithe of heart! O grace and gladness bringing!
Lo! at thy coming, Spring to Summer yields.
O happy swallow! thro' the meadow winging
Thy joyous flight above the freshening fields.
So long as thou art with us, we may feel
The end of life is not some fretful goal
But rest i' the eye of Nature—each tired head
Laid where her soft caresses gently steal.
But when thy far broods congregate, the soul
Low whispereth, 'Summer—Summer is fled!'





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