High in the skies in thunder-wrath
I saw them muster and mill and swarm,
One and a thousand birds of a feather
Swirling about a mounting storm;
Disappearing and reappearing
Low in the shades, high in the sun,
Lost and found again where the rearing
Thunderheads melt and overrun;
Off -- and over the Bay's bright dimples
Rocketing (catch them if you can),
Soon to be circling round the temples,
Cities and shrines of old Japan;
Summering somewhere in far Cathay,
Feasting on steppes still further west
(It is whispered that some still know the way
To good Saint Brandon's Isle of the Blest.)
But, gone to glory or Timbuctoo,
Whether to Elfland or Avalon,
One and a thousand or two by two
The swifts but follow where summer has gone.
First published in The Bulletin, 26 February 1958
