Truant Wings

F. Cowen

Come, swallow, come, for thee we wait;

Come seek thy northern home anew,

Where pale spring-flowers are delicate,

And winter skies are changed t.

Come, swallow, come, for thee we wait.

Come swallow, come, for thee we wait;

The thatch is warm beneath the sun,

Here tell of love to thy fond mate,

Today should see thy nest begun.

Come swallow, come, for thee we wait.

Come, swallow, come, for thee we wait;

The spring is perfect but for thee,

Ah! welcome, though thou speedest latte

Thy truant wings from o'er the sea.

Welcome, for not in vain we wait.