Swallow, I follow
Thy skimming
Over the sunset skies--
Follow till joy is dimming
To sadness in my eyes.
And hollow seems now thy twittering
High up where the bittering
Night-blown winds arise.
Throstle, the wassail
Thou drinkest
Daily of chalice buds--
Wassail in which thou linkest
Thy notes of springtime moods--
Should docile thy elfish fluttering
Where twilight is uttering
Sorcery through the woods.
Plover, thou lover
Of moorlands
Drained by the surfing sea--
Lover of marshy tourlands,
What is the world to thee?
Nay rover, wing on unquerying
O'er mallows ne'er wearying
Over the pebbly sands!
But sparrow, the care o'
Thy nesting
Pierces thy vesper song--
Care o' the young thy breasting
Shall warm through the blue night long--
Till, an arrow, seems thy dittying,
Of pain to the pitying
Heart that knows earth's wrong.