IN AN ALBUM
Like the south-flying swallow the summer has flown,
Like a fast-falling star, from unknown to unknown
Life flashes and falters and fails from our sight,—
Good-night, friends, good-night.
Like home-coming swallows that seek the old eaves,
Love shall sleep in our hearts till our hands meet again,
Till then, friends, till then!
Arthur Sherburne Hardy
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