O SWALLOW, with resistless wing, that hold’st the air in fee,
O swallow, with thy joyous sweep o’er earth and sunlit sea,
O swallow, who, if night were thine, would’st wheel amongst the stars,
Why linger round the eaves?
Unhappy! free of all the world hast knit thy soul to clay?
And glued thy heart up on the wall, thou swiftest child of day?
Claim, glorious wing, thy heritage; break, break thy prison bars,
Nor linger round the eaves.
Sweep, glorious wings, adown the wind; fly, swallow, to the west;
Before thee, life and liberty; behind, a ruined nest.
Blow, freshening breeze, sweep, rapid wing, for all the winds are
thine,
The nest is only clay.
The rapid wings were stretched in flight, the swallow sped away,
And left its nest beneath the eaves, the much-loved bit of clay,
Turned with the sun, to go where’er the happy sun might shine,
And passed into the day.
[Picture: Portion of School-house, Garden Front]