In the dean's porch a nest of clay
⁠With five small tenants may be seen,
Five solemn faces, each as wise
⁠As though its owner were a dean.

Five downy fledglings in a row,
⁠Packed close as in an antique pew
The schoolgirls are, whose foreheads clear
⁠At the Venite shine on you.

Day after day the swallows sit
⁠With scarce a stir, with scarce a sound
But dreaming and digesting much,
⁠They grow thus wise and soft and round.

They watch the canons come to dine,
⁠And hear the mullion-bars across,
Over the fragrant fruit and wine,
⁠Deep talk about the reredos.

Her hands with field-flowers drenched, a child
⁠Leaps past in wind-blown dress and hair,
The swallows turn their heads askew, —
⁠Five judges deem that she is fair.

Prelusive touches sound within,
⁠Straightway they recognize the sign,
And, blandly nodding, they approve
⁠The minuet of Rubenstein.

They mark the cousins' schoolboy talk,
⁠(Male birds flown wide from minster bell,)
And blink at each broad term of art,
⁠Binomial or bicycle.

Ah! downy young ones, soft and warm,
⁠Doth such a stillness mask from sight
Such swiftness? can such peace conceal
⁠Passion and ecstasy of flight?

Yet somewhere 'mid your Eastern suns,
⁠Under a white Greek architrave
At morn, or when the shaft of fire
⁠Lies large upon the Indian wave,

A sense of something dear gone by
⁠Will stir, strange longings thrill the heart
For a small world embowered and close,
⁠Of which ye sometime were a part.

The dew-drenched flowers, the child's glad eyes,
⁠Your joy unhuman shall control,
And in your wings a light and wind
⁠Shall move from the Maestro's soul.

Life's school has many tasks we all must learn,
Lessons of faith and patience, hope and love;
Knowledge of bitter taste, and wisdom.stern
Of fires, the temper of our steel to prove;
Much of forbearance gathering years must teach,
And charity, with her angelic face,
Gentling the judgment, softening the speech,
Gives time its surest aid, and grief its grace.
 
Hardest of all the masters we must hear,
Experience, with cold eyes and measured voice,
Bids us, who hold young lives supremely dear,
Beware, ere moulding them to suit our choice;
Warning: "The sky smiles blue, smooth shows the path,
Promise no sunshine, guide no wavering foot;
The loveliest valley hides the seeds of death,
The poison lurks deep in the fairest fruit."

Leave the young hearts to nature and to God.
Leave the young tendrils where they will to twine;
Where violets blossom, and white snowdrops nod,
Fall April dews where April's sunlights shine;
Gather the ripened corn, if yet some ears
Are left for faltering hand and patient care;
But for the darlings of decaying years,
Leave them alone, in all save love and prayer.

Oh, swallow! I have longed for thee
⁠Through all the burning summer days,
For thou dost fly each year to me
⁠And sing to me my fair love's praise.

Now vine-leaves redden in the sun,
⁠And fruits and corn are garnered now;
So is the sweetest time begun,
⁠Though yellow is the maple bough.

For this day from the pale calm skies
⁠Of the clear north, thy swift wing brings
Joy to my heart, so full of sighs
⁠All summer through thy wanderings.

Oh, swallow! say that thou hast been
⁠To dwell beneath the hanging eaves
Of my love's home, where ivy green
⁠Around her lattice trails fresh leaves.

She saw thee, and she said to thee,
⁠"Oh, swallow! say the years are long,
And bid him come again to me
⁠Ere thou return with the spring's song."

To her I go when winter hear
⁠Shall pass and bring the coming year,
To lead me swiftly to her door —
⁠To welcome love and banish fear!