The morning that my baby came <br />They found a baby swallow dead, <br />And saw a something, hard to name, <br />Flit moth-like over baby's bed. <br />My joy, my flower, my baby dear <br />Sleeps on my bosom well, but Oh! <br />If in the Autumn of the year <br />When swallows gather round and go -<br /><br />Ralph Hodgson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-swallow-5/
