This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1860 edition. Excerpt: ...about the retrospect, But deals with the other distance and the hues Of promise; not a death's head at the wine." Then I remembered one myself had made What time I watched the swallow winging south From mine own land, part made long since, and part Now while I sang; and maidenlike as far As I could ape ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1860 edition. Excerpt: ...about the retrospect, But deals with the other distance and the hues Of promise; not a death's head at the wine." Then I remembered one myself had made What time I watched the swallow winging south From mine own land, part made long since, and part Now while I sang; and maidenlike as far As I could ape their treble, did I sing. " O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South, Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, And tell her, tell her what I tell to thee. " O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each, That bright and fierce and fickle is the South, And dark and true and tender is the North. " O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light Upon her lattice, I would pipe and thrill, And cheep and twitter twenty million loves. " O were I thou that she might take me in, And lay me on her bosom, and her heart Would rock the snowy cradle till I died. " Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with loe. Delaying as the tender ash delays To clothe herself, when all the woods are green? " O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown: Say to her, I do but wanton in the South, But in the North long since my nest is made. " O tell her, brief is life but love is long, And brief the sun of summer in the North, And brief the moon of beauty in the South. " O Swallow, flying from the golden woods, Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine, And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee." I ceased, and all the ladies, each at each, Like the Ithacensian suitors in old time, Stared with great eyes, and laughed with alien lips, And knew not what they meant; for still my voice Rang false: but smiling, " Not for thee," she said, " O Bulbul, any rose of Gulistan Shall burst her veil: marsh-divers, rather, maid, Shall croak thee sister, or the meadow-crake...
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