 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
233
THE SWALLOW'S NEST
Here down the meadow runs a path
Snake-winding through the pleasant hay,
That leadeth over many a swath
Which shed their fragrance all the way.
At last the eye beholds the view
Of many arches all a-row,
That leads the traveller safely through
When floods are roaring loud below.
Snake-winding through the pleasant hay,
That leadeth over many a swath
Which shed their fragrance all the way.
At last the eye beholds the view
Of many arches all a-row,
That leads the traveller safely through
When floods are roaring loud below.
There 'neath an arch, as like to drop,
Two hermit swallows yearly fix
Their nest beneath the freestone top—
You'd almost wonder how it sticks.
And through and through the brig they whip—
Thoughts hardly can the pace maintain—
Then ‘twit’ and in the water dip,
And ‘twit’ and hurry back again.
Two hermit swallows yearly fix
Their nest beneath the freestone top—
You'd almost wonder how it sticks.
And through and through the brig they whip—
Thoughts hardly can the pace maintain—
Then ‘twit’ and in the water dip,
And ‘twit’ and hurry back again.
| The Poems of John Clare | |