Author John Gay Thus when the Swallow, seeking Prey, Within the Sash is closely pent, His Consort with bemoaning Lay, Without sits pining for th' Event. Her chatt'ring Lovers all around her skim; She heeds them not (poor Bird) her Soul's with him. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments