Poems with rhymes of swing

For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing

And his Emerald Swing—
Dower itself—for Bobadilo—
Better—Could I bring?

And swing, and sway, and swing!
Ah me, what bliss like unto this,
Can days and daylight bring?

The over-leaning harebells swing,
With roots half bare the pine-trees cling;

What _my_ pick 'ud be, i jing!
I'd say, Gimme the old swing

Soon, soon the days conviction bring.
The collie hair, the collie swing,

My heart shall swing.
A fruit no bee shall suck,
No wasp shall sting.

back to plate.(His spring
de-winged a bat swing.)

Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing,
Three of us abroad in the basket on the lea.
Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring,

Your walls seem to sag and to swing;
I'm trying to find just your faults, but I can't --
You poor, tired, heart-broken old thing!

And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,
And fasten the clothes to dry;
Then out in the free fresh air they swing,

Now pity steeps the grass and rainbows ring
The serpent with the eagle in the leaves. . . . ?
Whispers antiphonal in azure swing.

Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King,
Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing:

'Twas Stingy Smith on his stockyard sat, and prayed for an early Spring,
When he started at sight of a clean-shaved tramp, who walked with a jaunty swing;

To pump and stable, tree and swing,
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;

Even where horrible green parrots call and swing.
My works are all stamped down into the sultry mud.
I knew that horse-play, knew it for a murderous thing.

LIKE crimson lamps the tulips swing,
The lily flowers their incense bring,

Remember! in Creation's swing
The Race and not the man's the thing.