Classic Poem

Since I cannot come to you
And you may not come to me,
Words must go where I would be,
And do what I would do.

Happy, happy little words!
They will touch your finger tips,
And flutter at your pretty lips,
A flock of singing birds.

They will see your face all day,
Steal into your dreams at night,
Safe beneath your pillow white,
While I am far away.

Since we are such miles apart,
See! I send this swallow song,
It is tired... the way was long;
Take it to your tender heart.