The morning that my baby came
They found a baby swallow dead,
And saw a something, hard to name,
Flit moth-like over baby’s bed.
My joy, my flower, my baby dear
Sleeps on my bosom well, but Oh!
If in the Autumn of the year
When swallows gather round and go –
Did you enjoy the the artible “The Swallow” from Ralph Hodgson on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
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