FAITH.

Br n a. ANDROn.
{"newspaper_name": "Washington telegraph.", "edition": "01", "page": "p2", "byline": ""}
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A swallow in the spring
Came to our granary, and Meath the caves
Essayed 70 make her nest, and there did bring


Wet earth and staw and leaves.


Day after day she toiled,
With patient art, but ere her work was crowned,
Some sad mishap the tiny fabric spoiled,


And dashed il to the ground.


She found the ruin wrought
Yet not cast down, forth from her place she flew,
And with her mate fresh earth and grasses brought,
And built her nest anew.


But scarcely had she placed
The last soft feather ON IFS ample floor,
When wicked hand, or chance again laid waste,
And wrought the ruin Ger.


But still her heart she kept,
And toiIed again: and last night, hearing calls,
looked, and 10, three little swallows slept
Within the earth made walls


What truth is here, On, MAN.
Hath HOPE been smitten in its early dawn7
Hath clouds o'ercast thy purpose, trust or plant
Have FAITH, and struggle on.