Sounds of a Swallow

Call upon the martins and the swallows wild,
And let them soar the air like an heiress child.
Call upon the heirs of those who wish to sing,
The chanting of the swallows
All the summers bring.

Half the martins fly and house themselves array,
Whilst the swallows sing to martin's song in May.
And the children dance the gigue of let-it-be,
Ten fingers in the air
For every king to see.

Calling on the swallows fleeing woodlands dark,
Are queens with longing quests that martins do embark.
Requests by heiress girls, fanning faces white,
To kiss the dancing fool
kissing out of sight.

Hark, another swallow from the garden grim,
Sings a reap of silence from the grail within.
Soon after, mists of breasted yellow pardon play,
A ghost reveals the stone
Where three dead martins lay.

A clasp of pride and predator, naming names,
Envelop children's eyes under petty claims.
So let it be, the quarrel, the men at sea,
For my own petty claim,
Will be the death of me.