Classic Poem

Yes, here, my pretty swallow, twittering guest,
You every summer build your little nest,
And wing your flight ere comes the snow
To Memphis, or you seek the shores of Nile.
But Eros in my heart with many a wile
His nest weaves and he will not go.
One love is fully fledged and one is still
Within the shell; another half-fledged will
Become a grown love shortly; so
Great is the noise they make no peace at all
I have; the larger ones support the small.
In turn the younger nurslings too
Produce an infant brood. I cannot free
Myself from so many light loves' slavery:
Except to yield what can I do?