It's Surely Summer. For There's A Swallow:

O Passing Angel, Speed Me With A Song, A Melody Of Heaven To Reach My Heart And Rouse Me To The Race And Make Me Strong.

My Heart Is Like A Singing Bird Whose Nest Is In A Water'd Shoot; My Heart Is Like An Apple-tree Whose Boughs Are Bent With Thick-set Fruit.

The Downhill Path Is Easy, But There's No Turning Back.

Lie Still, Lie Still, My Breaking Heart; My Silent Heart, Lie Still And Break: Life, And The World, And Mine Own Self, Are Changed For A Dream's Sake.

The Violets Whisper From The Shade Which Their Own Leaves Have Made: Men Scent Our Fragrance On The Air, Yet Take No Heed Of Humble Lessons We Would Read.