The Martins

Full-throated songsters from the south,

     Again your rippling note we hear;

You bring the charm of tropic lands,

     And we forget the winter drear.

Sleek coated martins; wondrous hue

     Glinting beneath the springtime sun;

Accept our hospitality,

     Rest here and ease your northward run.

Your quaint abodes are waiting you,

     At best the summer is not long;

Stand guard before your sacred doors

     And fill the breaking dawn with song.

Jan 31, 1917