O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South, <br /> Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, <br /> And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee. <br /> O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each, <br /> That bright and fierce and fickle is the South, <br /> And dark and true and tender is the North. <br /> O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light <br /> Upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill, <br /> And cheep and twitter twenty million loves. <br /> <br /> O were I thou that she might take me in, <br /> And lay me on her bosom, and her heart <br /> Would rock the snowy cradle till I died. <br /> <br /> Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love, <br /> Delaying as the tender ash delays <br /> To clothe herself, when all the woods are green? <br /> <br /> O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown: <br /> Say to her, I do but wanton in the South, <br /> But in the North long since my nest is made. <br /> <br /> O tell her, brief is life but love is long, <br /> And brief the sun of summer in the North, <br /> And brief the moon of beauty in the South. <br /> <br /> O Swallow, flying from the golden woods, <br /> Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine, <br /> And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee.<br /><br />Alfred Lord Tennyson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-princess-a-medley-o-swallow/
