Swallow, I follow

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

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

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'

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.