Classic Poem

By tropic shores the swallow sits,
Or with uneasy wing
From headland unto headland flits,
And chides the lagging Spring.

Stream forth, thou warm south-west, and waft
Us quickening breath anew,
And soon the bird, a feathery shaft,
Shall gleam in English blue.

For greenness waits the barren grove,
For warmth his sunny song
The lark delays, I mine for love.
How long, O Love, how long?