A LITTLE grey swallow, I fled to the vales Of the nightingales And the haunts of Apollo. Behind me lie the sheer white cliffs, the hollow Green waves that break at home, the northern gales, The oaks above the homesteads in the vales, For all my home is far, and cannot follow. O nightingale voices! O lemons in flower! O branches of laurel! You all are here, but ah not here my choice is: Fain would I pluck one pink-vein'd bloom of sorrel, Or watch the wrens build in our hazel bower. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BIRD'S ANGER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN'S TRIP TO CAMBRIDGE; ELECTION BALLAD by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY THE HAPPY WARRIOR by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH LOVES MONARCHIE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE CORRELATION by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE FLAG TRIUMPHANT by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN STRAFFORD; A TRAGEDY by ROBERT BROWNING |