 | Poems (1895) |  |
101
XXXI. THE SWAN.
O, blended majesty and grace of motion!Majestic as a billow of the ocean;
And graceful as a matron's bosom heaving!
At the first coming of the twilight wan,
The crystal of the river whitely cleaving,
O'er his fair shadow floats a state-proud swan!
His wings upreared and curved; his fine neck arching;
His eyes to either shore intently peering;
His progress silent as the mighty marching
Of earth and all the planets round the sun!
He naught divergeth from his forth-careering
Till the far haven of his rest is won;
Where her close-nestled young his fond mate tendeth,
And her upraised neck to greet his coming bendeth!
| Poems (1895) | |