from jean pierre claris florian

I love to see the swallows come At my window twittering, Bringing from their southern home News of the approaching spring. ‘Last year’s nest,’ they softly say,  ‘Last year’s love again shall see; Only faithful lovers may Tell you of the coming glee.’

When the first fell touch of frost Strips the wood of faded leaves, Calling all their wingèd host, The swallows meet above the eaves p. 19 ‘Come away, away,’ they cry,  ‘Winter’s snow is hastening; True hearts winter comes not nigh, They are ever in the spring.’

p. 19

If by some unhappy fate, Victim of a cruel mind, One is parted from her mate And within a cage confined, Swiftly will the swallow die, Pining for her lover’s bower, And her lover watching nigh Dies beside her in an hour.

p. 20AFTER MANY DAYS

p. 20

The mist hangs round the College tower, The ghostly street Is silent at this midnight hour, Save for my feet.

With none to see, with none to hear, Downward I go To where, beside the rugged pier, The sea sings low.

It sings a tune well loved and known In days gone by, When often here, and not alone, I watched the sky.

p. 21That was a barren time at best, Its fruits were few; But fruits and flowers had keener zest And fresher hue.

p. 21

Life has not since been wholly vain, And now I bear Of wisdom plucked from joy and pain Some slender share.

But, howsoever rich the store, I’d lay it down, To feel upon my back once more The old red gown.

p. 22HORACE’S PHILOSOPHY

p. 22

What the end the gods have destined unto thee and unto me, Ask not: ’tis forbidden knowledge. Be content, Leuconoe. Let alone the fortune-tellers. How much better to endure Whatsoever shall betide us—even though we be not sure Whether Jove grants other winters, whether this our last shall be That upon the rocks opposing dashes now the Tuscan sea. Be thou wise, and strain thy wines, and mindful of life’s brevity Stint thy 

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