A BIRD SONG.
IT'S a year almost that I have not seen her:
Oh last summer green things were greener,
Brambles fewer, the blue sky bluer.
Oh last summer green things were greener,
Brambles fewer, the blue sky bluer.
It's surely summer, for there's a swallow:
Come one swallow, his mate will follow,
The bird race quicken and wheel and thicken.
Come one swallow, his mate will follow,
The bird race quicken and wheel and thicken.
Oh happy swallow whose mate will follow
O'er height, o'er hollow! I'd be a swallow,
To build this weather one nest together.
O'er height, o'er hollow! I'd be a swallow,
To build this weather one nest together.