Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Algernon Charles Swinburne. 18371909811. Itylus
SWALLOW, 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? | 5 |
What wilt thou do when the summer is shed? | |
O 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? | 10 |
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, | 15 |
Shedding my song upon height, upon hollow, | |
From tawny body and sweet small mouth | |
Feed the heart of the night with fire. | |
I the nightingale all spring through, | |
O swallow, sister, O changing swallow, | 20 |
All spring through till the spring be done, | |
Clothed with the light of the night on the dew, | |
Sing, while the hours and the wild birds follow, | |
Take fight and follow and find the sun. | |
Sister, my sister, O soft light swallow, | 25 |
Though all things feast in the spring’s guest-chamber, | |
How hast thou heart to be glad thereof yet? | |
For where thou fliest I shall not follow, | |
Till life forget and death remember, | |
Till thou remember and I forget. | 30 |
Swallow, my sister, O singing swallow, | |
I know not how thou hast heart to sing. | |
Hast thou the heart? is it all past over? | |
Thy lord the summer is good to follow, | |
And fair the feet of thy lover the spring: | 35 |
But what wilt thou say to the spring thy lover? | |
O swallow, sister, O fleeting swallow, | |
My heart in me is a molten ember | |
And over my head the waves have met. | |
But thou wouldst tarry or I would follow | 40 |
Could I forget or thou remember, | |
Couldst thou remember and I forget. | |
O sweet stray sister, O shifting swallow, | |
The heart’s division divideth us. | |
Thy heart is light as a leaf of a tree; | 45 |
But mine goes forth among sea-gulfs hollow | |
To the place of the slaying of Itylus, | |
The feast of Daulis, the Thracian sea. | |
O swallow, sister, O rapid swallow, | |
I pray thee sing not a little space. | 50 |
Are not the roofs and the lintels wet? | |
The woven web that was plain to follow, | |
The small slain body, the flower-like face, | |
Can I remember if thou forget? | |
O sister, sister, thy first-begotten! | 55 |
The hands that cling and the feet that follow, | |
The voice of the child’s blood crying yet, | |
Who hath remember’d me? who hath forgotten? | |
Thou hast forgotten, O summer swallow, | |
But the world shall end when I forget. | 60 |