THE EAVES SWALLOW 
EARS before the Saco meadow 
Felt the feet of wand'ring white 
men, 
Years before Chocorua's echoes 
Were aroused by mimic thunder, 
Mimic thunder from the rifles 
Of the hunters, of the white men, 
CHffs along the face of Paugus, 
Cliffs along the Saco valley, 
Cliffs below Chocorua's shadow, 
Bore the mud huts of the swallow. 
Not the swallow of the sand-bank. 
Not the swallow of the tree-trunk. 
Not the swallow of the rafter, 
Not the friendly purple martin. 
Nor the swift which haunts the chimney, 
But the swallow of the mud nest, 
