Page:Poems Larcom.djvu/67

SWINGING IN THE BARN.

    SWING away,
From the great cross-beam,
Hid in heaps of clover-hay,
  Scented like a dream.

    Higher yet!
  Up, between the eaves,
Where the gray doves cooing flit
  Through the sun-gilt leaves.

    Here we go!
  Whistle, merry wind!.
'T is a long day you must blow,
  Lighter hearts to find.

    Swing away!
  Sweep the rough barn floor;
Looking through on Arcady
  Framed in by the door!