Ralph Hodgson

Here you will find the Poem The Swallow of poet Ralph Hodgson

The Swallow

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 -