The little children flocking came Their kindness cheered his drooping soul, The children too began to sigh, INDIA. Where sacred Ganges pours along the plain, Two tyrant seasons rule the wide domain, THE SWALLOW. Swallow! that on rapid wing Now here, now there, now low, now high, Could I skim away with thee What streams would flow, what cities rise, Entering then the wild domain Where wolves prowl round the flocks of Spain, Where silk-worms spin, and olives grow, And mules plod surely on and slow. Steering then for many a day THE TRAVELLER'S RETURN. Sweet to the morning traveller And cheering to the traveller And when beneath the unclouded sun 'Full wearily toils he, The flowing water makes to him And when the evening light decays, There is sweet music to his ear In the distant sheep-bell's sound. And sweet the neighbouring church's bell But sweeter is the voice of love That welcomes his return! Anthology. a 6 FINIS. |