Hither and thither flying, Flickering to and fro, Swallows their wings are trying All in the sunset glow. Purposeless now, and nestless They are eager for flight. They are restless, ah ! restless ; They will start to-night. Summer came with the swallows, Bringing beautiful days ; Hawthorn foam in the hollows ; Gorse in a golden blaze. Fields that were flushed with flowers ; Skies that were blue above ; And certain sunshiny hours Of Hope and Love. Summer will go with the swallows ; Autumn will travel here. Then, when the winter follows— The desolate end of the year— Skies will be dim with raining, Flowers will die in the cold, But Hope and Love remaining Will be ours to hold. Frances Wynne.