 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
228
The Swift
Men tell how many blossoms will appearOn every tree they plant & hope to thrive
How many kernels fill the yellow ear
How many bees shall swarm in every hive
When Spring's but come, 'tis Autumn here with them
And Summers but of Winter's cold can tell;
And when they see the fruit on laden stem
With them its early buds begin to swell
'Tis all too slow, fair nature's gentle growth;
Their hopes are ripe, when hers but bud & bloom;
And they accuse her equal pace—of sloth,
And cast on her the shadow of their gloom.
But she, kind Mother of her children all,
With voice of dove-like mildness gently chides
“I care for e'en the humble sparrow's fall
Alike with yon bright orb that o'er thee glides!”
Poem No. 329; 1841–42?
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