Come back to me my swallow

Come back to me my swallow
And leave me not forlorn,
Into the woods I follow
The footsteps of the morn.
I thread the rustling hollow
Before the day is born,
Come back to me my swallow
And leave me not forlorn!

The light was dark without thee,
My bird of April days,
I almost came to doubt thee
When thou hadst gone thy ways —
The sunshine round about thee —
Into the land of rays.
The light was dark without thee,
My bird of April days.