The New-Comers
Two swallows—each preening a long glossy feather;
Now they gossip and dart through the silvery weather;
Oh, praise to the Highest—two lovers together—
Free, free in the fathomless world of air.
No fate to oppose and no fortune to sunder;
Blue sky overhead—green sky breaking under;
And their home on the cliff in the midst of the wonder,
Hung high beyond fear on the gray granite stair.