The Swallow, by Edwin Curran

The Swallow

Dawn bird victorious,
Lyrical, glorious,
Softly thy music rolls on the sea;
Summer's sweet warning,
Wings of the morning,
Bells in the wind over meadow and lea.   Thy voice is a winged caress,
Matin of joyousness,
Song of the sunrise crying afar,
For all thy sweet strains flow
Over dawn's rainbow
Into the jewel of the white morning star.   Thy song seems one crying,
Her singing and sighing
Who left me and went in the way all depart;
O swallow, O swallow,
Could I but follow
And ride on thy wings to the home of her heart!

poems.one - Edwin Curran

Edwin Curran