60 AUNT MARIA'S SWALLOWS.

 They did not know, the pretty things,
 How beautiful they were;
 Whether they moved with rapid wings,
 Or balanced on the air.

 And yet they almost seemed to know
 They had a winsome grace;
 As if they meant to make a show,
 They'd choose their resting-place.

 On a suspended hoop they'd swing,
 Swayed by the buoyant air,
 Or, perched on upright hoe, would sing
 Songs of a loving pair.

 Swiftly as rays of golden light
 They glanced forth to and fro,-
 So rapid, that the keenest sight
 Could scarcely see them go.

 The lover proved a husband kind,
 Attentive to his mate;
 He helped her when the nest was lined,
 And never stayed out late.

 And while she hatched, with patient care
 He took his turn to brood,
 That she might skim along the air
 To find her needful food.

 He did it with an awkward hop,
 And the eggs seemed like to break,-
 Just as some clumsy man would mop,
 Or thread and needle take.

 But there with patient love he sat,
 And kept the eggs right warm,
 And sharply watched for dog or cat,
 Until his mate's return.