 | Poems |  |
158
CLXII
[Low-flying swallow, tho' the sky be fair]
Low-flying swallow, tho' the sky be fair,
The sunshine soft,
Thou seekest not with love the upper air,
Soaring aloft;
Thy sharp and gleamy wing goes flashing by me
Thy dusky white and blue thou'lt not deny me!
The sunshine soft,
Thou seekest not with love the upper air,
Soaring aloft;
Thy sharp and gleamy wing goes flashing by me
Thy dusky white and blue thou'lt not deny me!
Thy nest's a bit of mine—thy little home
Set in the eaves.
When roses leave the wall, where wilt thou roam,
When summer leaves?
Not lightly, flying friend, can I forego thee,
The longest day is all too short to know thee!
Set in the eaves.
When roses leave the wall, where wilt thou roam,
When summer leaves?
Not lightly, flying friend, can I forego thee,
The longest day is all too short to know thee!
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