Classic Poem

The swallow came from over the sea,
Weary with her flight was she,
She fluttered down on a maiden's breast,
That on the sea beach lay at rest;
O swallow, swallow
Will thy love be hollow?
Lay upon my true heart
Till my true love follow —

The swallow made a Summer nest
In between each little breast,
But when the harvest suns had past
She laid her wings on the Southern blast.
O happy Comer
Art thou still a roamer?
Constant unto no love
But the love of Summer [?]

The swallow flew far, far away
Where feathery lustres flash and play,
But long before the season turned,
Back to the nesting breast she yearned —
Ah pretty maiden
Breasting, blooming Eden,