 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
10
The Swallows
Peaceful across the level lawn they glide,O'er latticed shadows of the Summer trees,
Weaving short flights all day with careless ease,
As if for ever destined to abide
In this green nook. No thought of regions wide
Which they must traverse soon, of boisterous breeze,
Or league on league of far-resounding seas,
'Neath purple wing and snowy breast they hide.
Enough for them that now the skies are blue,
And food sufficient fills the humming air;
Of darker days they take no forward view:
Oh that their happy wisdom we could share,
And leave to-morrow to His faithful Word,
Who tells the flittings both of man and bird!
| Lyra Pastoralis | |