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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355519" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Swallow</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE gorse is yellow on the heath, <br>The banks with speedwell flowers are gay, <br>The oaks are budding; and beneath, <br>The hawthorn soon will bear the wreath, <br>The silver wreath of May. <br>The welcome guest of settled Spring, <br>The Swallow too is come at last; <br>Just at sun-set, when thrushes sing, <br>I saw her dash with rapid wing, <br>And hail'd her as she pass'd. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come, summer visitant, attach <br>To my reed roof your nest of clay, <br>And let my ear your music catch <br>Low twittering underneath the thatch <br>At the gray dawn of day. <br>As fables tell, an Indian Sage, <br>The Hindostani woods among, <br>Could in his desert hermitage, <br>As if 'twere mark'd in written page, <br>Translate the wild bird's song. <br>I wish I did his power possess, <br>That I might learn, fleet bird, from thee, <br>What our vain systems only guess, <br>And know from what wide wilderness <br>You came across the sea. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would a little while restrain <br>Your rapid wing, that I might hear <br>Whether on clouds that bring the rain, <br>You sail'd above the western main, <br>The wind your charioteer. <br>In Afric, does the sultry gale <br>Thro' spicy bower, and palmy grove, <br>Bear the repeated Cuckoo's tale ? <br>Dwells there a time, the wandering Rail <br>Or the itinerant Dove ? <br>Were you in Asia ? O relate, <br>If there your fabled sister's woes <br>She seem'd in sorrow to narrate; <br>Or sings she but to celebrate <br>Her nuptials with the rose ? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would enquire how journeying long, <br>The vast and pathless ocean o'er, <br>You ply again those pinions strong, <br>And come to build anew among <br>The scenes you left before; <br>But if, as colder breezes blow, <br>Prophetic of the waning year, <br>You hide, tho' none know when or how, <br>In the cliff's excavated brow, <br>And linger torpid here; <br>Thus lost to life, what favouring dream <br>Bids you to happier hours awake; <br>And tells, that dancing in the beam, <br>The light gnat hovers o'er the stream, <br>The May-fly on the lake ? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or if, by instinct taught to know <br>Approaching dearth of insect food; <br>To isles and willowy aits you go, <br>And crouding on the pliant bough, <br>Sink in the dimpling flood: <br>How learn ye, while the cold waves boom <br>Your deep and ouzy couch above, <br>The time when flowers of promise bloom, <br>And call you from your transient tomb, <br>To light, and life, and love ? <br>Alas ! how little can be known, <br>Her sacred veil where Nature draws; <br>Let baffled Science humbly own, <br>Her mysteries understood alone, <br>By Him who gives her laws.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charlotte+Smith">Charlotte Smith</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355519" data-title="The Swallow de Charlotte Smith" data-description="THE gorse is yellow on the heath, 
The banks with speedwell flowers are gay, 
The oaks are budding; and beneath, 
The hawthorn soon will bear the wreath, 
The silver wreath of May. 
The welcome guest of settled Spring, 
The Swallow too is come at ..."></div>
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