Swift little swallow,
near invisible in flight.
Brush the sky with purple hues,
and iridescence in the light.

Dancing upon the meadow,
feather fleeting to and fro.
The most nimble little creature,
that my eye could ever know.

The most delicate beauty,
of all that glide by the wing.
Its no wonder, you have been graced,
as the messenger of spring.

Swift little swallow,
how did you come to be.
From within the nest of the fairies breath, that is what I believe.