by John Cunningham
ODE XXXIII .
Soon as summer glads the sky,
Hither, gentle bird! you fly;
And, with golden sunshine blest,
Build your pretty plaster'd nest.
When the seasons cease to smile,
(Wing'd for Memphis or the Nile,)
Charming bird! you disappear
Till the kind succeeding year.
Like the Swallow, Love! depart;
Respite for awhile my heart.
No; he'll never leave his nest,
Tyrant tenant of my breast!
There a thousand wishes try
On their callow wings to fly;
There you may a thousand tell,
Pertly peeping through the shell:
In a state unfinish'd, rise
Thousands of a smaller size.
Till their noisy chirpings cease,
Never shall my heart have peace.
Feather'd ones the younglings feed,
Till, mature, they're fit to breed;
Then, to swell the crowded store,
They produce their thousands more:
Nor can mighty numbers count
In my breast their vast amount.
Last updated September 05, 2017