Clinging fast with claws the while,

Till they made an open door-way

Suiting them in size and style.



Once within, they peck and peck it,--

Sometimes quite a yard or more,

While the nest is snugly builded,

Farthest from the outer door.



But, so wise are they, this archway

From the entrance to the nest,

Is inclining ever upward,

That no rain within may rest.



So the pink-white eggs are laid there,

Safe from harm, till baby-birds

Chirrup forth to take their places,

'Mongst the self-sustaining herds.







Smallest of the swallow species,

Homeliest, too, yet favorites dear,

For their graceful, airy movements,

And their simple, social cheer.



Found are they from North to South-land,

Known of every tribe and race;--

Swift in flight, yet swinging, swaying,

Skimming low from place to place.



Parent-birds care less for young ones,

Than do other swallow-kind;--

Push them off half-fledged and timid,

Each his food and home to find.



Thus they, many a time, fall prey to

Hawks and crows, their enemies;--

Even the nest sometimes is entered

By the snakes and fleas and flies.



Swallows migrate in the Winter,

From the cold to warmer climes,

Flying back as Spring approaches,

To the haunts of former times.







"Ne'er one swallow makes a Summer,"

Is a saying everywhere;--

But when swallows come in myriads,

Blessed Summer-time is here.