THE SWALLOW’S FLIGHT
O for swift wings!
O let me fly as are the swallows, free—
Free from the toil and turmoil of the world!
Let me away to some Elysian fields,
Where I may sing the swallow’s lay. O joy!
How heavenly to be flitting, nestling there,
Where one might sing unto the ambrosial sun;
Or stride her chariot, lined with fleecy clouds;
Taste such delights as ne’er hath mortal known,