The Works of Abraham Cowley/Volume 1/The Swallow
For works with similar titles, see Swallow.
xi.
THE SWALLOW.
Foolish prater, what dost thouSo early at my window do,With thy tuneless serenade?Well 't had been had Tereus madeThee as dumb as Philomel;There his knife had done but well.In thy undiscover'd nestThou dost all the winter rest,And dreamest o'er thy summer joys,Free from the stormy seasons' noise:Free from th'ill thou'st done to me;Who disturbs or seeks-out thee?Hadst thou all the charming notesOf the wood's poetic throats,All thy art could never payWhat thou'st ta'en from me away.Cruel bird! thou'st ta'en awayA dream out of ray arms to-day; A dream, that ne'er must equall'd beBy all that waking eyes may see.Thou, this damage to repair,Nothing half so sweet or fair,Nothing half so good, canst bring,Though men say thou bring'st the spring.