26 The Eaves Swallow 
Won his love and kind protection, 
Multiplied, and lived in plenty. 
One by one green leaves turned crimson, 
One by one th^ winters melted. 
Years rolled on past men and swal- 
lows. 
Both forgot that once the mud huts 
On the Saco cliffs were plastered — 
Barns alone were made to build on. 
So young mothers taught their nestlings. 
But with time the thrifty farmer 
Learned that clapboards neatly lapping, 
Covering all the rifts and gapings 
In the walls which kept his cattle, 
Made their stalls and mangers warmer. 
Stopped the icy draughts of winter. 
Then he learned that oils and pigments, 
Daubed and rubbed upon his buildings, 
Kept the mischief of the weather 
From the clapboards, from the finish. 
