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THE SWALLOW.
He looks from the eyes of the little child.
And searches souls with their gaze so clear;
To the heart some agony makes wild
He whispers, "I am here."
And searches souls with their gaze so clear;
To the heart some agony makes wild
He whispers, "I am here."
He smiles in the face of every flower;
In the swallow's twitter of sweet content
He speaks, and we follow through every hour
The way his deep thought went.
In the swallow's twitter of sweet content
He speaks, and we follow through every hour
The way his deep thought went.
Here should be courage and hope and faith;
Nought has escaped the trace of his hand;
And a voice in the heart of his silence saith,
One day we shall understand.
Nought has escaped the trace of his hand;
And a voice in the heart of his silence saith,
One day we shall understand.
