Behold, the fleeting swallow Forsakes the frosty air; And leaves, alert to follow, Are falling everywhere, Like wounded birds, too weak A distant clime to seek. And soon, with silent pinions, The fledglings of the north From winter's wild dominions Shall drift affrighted forth, And, phantom-like, anon Pursue the phantoms gone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT DYING OF A COUGH by JOHN MILTON THE PRELUDE: BOOK 1. CHILDHOOD AND SCHOOL-TIME by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ON THE MOOR by ROBERT ADAMSON (1832-) ON THE STATUE OF CLEOPATRA, MADE INTO A FOUNTAIN BY LEO X by BALDASSARRE CASTIGLIONE ON DR. JOHN DONNE, LATE DEANE OF S. PAULES, LONDON by I. CHUDLEIGH |