The Swallow's Song[17]

The autumn winds are blowing, The air is cool and drear, The forest leaves are falling, The grass is scant and sear. The dew to hoar-frost changes, And swallows southward fly; While from the North in batches The wild swan cloud the sky. And I such signs discerning Think of you, husband dear, And long for your home-coming From marches long and drear. Why do you longer tarry In such a distant place? Think of my lonely vigils, Sad thoughts and tear-stained face! The harp I often finger, And try to sing a song; But soon I sigh and falter, And for your coming long. The Moon's pure light is shining Upon my lonely bed; The 'Star-Stream's'[18] westward flowing, The night is not far sped. The Cowherd and the Spinning-Girl[19] Lament the doom that bars The meeting of true lovers, Across the Stream of Stars. What folly did they ponder To meet so dire a fate? I wonder if we also Are doomed to trial as great!