by Helen Hunt Jackson
For one to bear my message, I looked out
In haste, at noon. The bee and swallow passed
Bound south. My message was to South.
It trusting as a mariner. No doubt,
Sweet bee, blithe swallow, in my heart about
The stealthy night came fast.
"O chilly night," I said, "no friend thou hast
For me, and morn is far," when lo! a shout
Of joy, and ridling up as one rides late,
My friend fell on my neck just in the gate.
You got my message then?
No message, sweet,
Save my own eyes' desire your eyes to meet.
You saw no swallow and no bee before
I do remember past my door
There brushed a bird and bee. O, dearer presage
Than I had dreamed! You sent by them a message?
Roberts Brothers, Boston