Swing-Song

Swing ! swing!
Birds in the budding wood, birds on the wing
Fill sweet soft air with carolling ;
The woods no more contain their glee,
Joy brims over on every tree
In a flutter of leaves hilariously.
Swing ! swing !

Early primroses awake from sleep,
In many a dewy dale they peep ;
Lo ! populous land, far field and grove,
Aerial as clouds that move
In labyrinthine drifts above !
Swing ! swing !

Anemone- flakes of a veined snow
Lie over the sunny herbs below.
Lie over brown bents, woven and wet.
Where yellow-eyed white violet
With moth and strawberry hath met.
Swing! swing!

Spring waves her youngling leaves for token
Dark winter's deadlier spells are broken ;
The firry roofs, with low sea-sound.
Welcome to their calm profound
The dove's long call in a love-swound,
Swing! swing!

Baby-boy lies on a sisterly arm
Of little maid Mary, safe from harm.
Little boy Willy will push the pair,
Hark! how they laugh as they rush through the air!
All the young world laughs, oh, how fair !
Swing! swing!