| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895. |
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| The Swallow |
| | | Thomas Aird (1802–76) |
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| THE SWALLOW, bonny birdie, comes sharp twittering o’er the sea, | |
| And gladly is her carol heard for the sunny days to be; | |
| She shares not with us wintry glooms, but yet, no faithless thing, | |
| She hunts the summer o’er the earth with wearied little wing. | |
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| The lambs like snow all nibbling go upon the ferny hills; | 5 |
| Light winds are in the leafy woods, and birds, and bubbling rills; | |
| Then welcome, little swallow, by our morning lattice heard, | |
| Because thou com’st when Nature bids bright days be thy reward! | |
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| Thine be sweet mornings with the bee that ’s out for honey-dew; | |
| And glowing be the noontide for the grass-hopper and you; | 10 |
| And mellow shine, o’er day’s decline, the sun to light thee home: | |
| What can molest thy airy nest? sleep till the day-spring come! | |
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| The river blue that rushes through the valley hears thee sing, | |
| And murmurs much beneath the touch of thy light-dipping wing. | |
| The thunder-cloud, over us bowed, in deeper gloom is seen, | 15 |
| When quick reliev’d it glances to thy bosom’s silvery sheen. | |
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| The silent Power, that brought thee back with leading-strings of love | |
| To haunts where first the summer sun fell on thee from above, | |
| Shall bind thee more to come aye to the music of our leaves, | |
| For here thy young, where thou hast sprung, shall glad thee in our eaves. | 20 |
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