University of Virginia Library


213

A BIRD SONG.

It's a year almost that I have not seen her:
Oh last summer green things were greener,
Brambles fewer, the blue sky bluer.
It's surely summer, for there's a swallow:
Come one swallow, his mate will follow,
The bird-race quicken and wheel and thicken.
Oh happy swallow whose mate will follow
O'er height, o'er hollow! I'd be a swallow
To build this weather one nest together.