John Jay Chapman

The Swallows

THE hills of Camden mile on mile Fling their green mantle o'er the bay; The dark waves dance about the isle Where we have nested many a day. The shadows mount; the air is chill; Away! The hermit thrush has left the bed Where late his giddy music shone, The sumac in the swamp is red, And Autumn binds her sandals on. The season wanes; summer's at end. Away!