Classic Poem

Exquisite clear the sunset time. I witness
The Sapphic swallow swimming in the blue
Where white clouds perish. With a curious fitness
That voyager's nests appear as if they grew,
Built with an easy lazy bit-by-bitness . . .
If I were not a poet, I'd be you,
Swift swallow, whom such changeful mood possesses,
Creature of impulses and idlenesses.