Last Swallow

9 4 5
                                    

Gleaming jewel of England born

swooping, soaring, gliding free

spirit of the summer air

kindred of the heart of me.


Evening cools the fevered sun

you skim o'er the river breast

passing summer on the wing

with sparkling beauty heaven blessed.


Summer draws to an Indian close

swallows gather on the wire

one evening there the next one gone

eastward soaring, higher ... higher.



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