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 -
The Swallow
Ralph Hodgson
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Poem topics: autumn, flower, joy, dear, hard, morning, year, baby, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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