631

THE SWALLOW.

COWPER.

1 aw fond of the swallow—T learn from her fight,
Hod I ckill to improve it, a lesson of love :

How seldom on earth do we sec her alight !

Sho dwells in the skies, she is ever above.

It is on the wing that she takes her repose,
Suspended and poised in the regions of air,

"Tis not in our ficlds that her sustenance grows,
It is wing’d like herself, 'tis ethereal fare.

She comes in the spring, all the summer she stays,
‘And, dreading the cold, still follows the sun—

So, true to our love, we should covet his rays,

‘And the place where he shiues not immediately shun.

Our light should be love, and our nourishment prayer ;
It is dangerous food that we find upon earth ;

‘The fruit of this world is beset with a snaro,

In itaclf it is hurtful, as vile in its birth.

°Tis rarely, if ever, she settles below,
And only when building a nest for her young ;
‘Were it not for her brood. she would never bestow
A thought upon any thing filtby as dung.

Let us leavo it ourselves, (‘tis a mortal abode,)
‘To bask every moment in infinite love ;

Let us fly the dark winter, aud follow the road
‘That lead to the dayspring appearing above.

THE END.