ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE

With sadder than the Niobean womb, And in the hollow of her breasts a tomb.

Content thee, howsoe'er, whose days are done ; There lies not any troublous thing before, Nor sight nor sound to war against thee more,

For whom all winds are quiet as the sun, All waters as the shore.

��8 n. Itylus

G WALLOW, my sister, O sister swallow, ^ How can thine heart be full of the spring ?

A thousand summers are over and dead. What hast thou found in the spring to follow ? What hast thou found in thine heart to sing ?

What wilt thou do when the summer is shed?

swallow, sister, O fair swift swallow, Why wilt thou fly after spring to the south,

The soft south whither thine heart is set ? Shall not the grief of the old time follow ?

Shall not the song thereof cleave to thy mouth? Hast thou forgotten ere I forget?

Sister, my sister, O fleet sweet swallow,

Thy way is long to the sun and the south ;

But I, fulfill'd of my heart's desire, Shedding my song upon height, upon hollow, From tawny body and sweet small mouth Feed the heart of the night with lire.

1 the nightingale all spring through,

O swallow, sister, O changing swallow,

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