SWANS

With wings held close and slim neck bent, 

Along dark water scarcely stirred,

Floats, shimmering and indolent,

The alabaster bird.

Its mate floats near, the lovely one;

They lie like snow, cool flake on flake,

Mild breast on breast of dimmer swan 

Dim-mirrored in the lake.

They glide. . . and glides that white embrace, 

Shy bird to bird, with never a sound;

Thus leaned Narcissus toward his face, 

Leaned lower till he drowned.

Leda leaned thus, subdued and spent

Beneath those vivid wings of love. . .

Along the lake, proud, indolent,

The vast birds scarcely move.

Silence is wisdom. Then how wise

Are these whose song is, but their knell!

A god did well to choose this guise.

Truly a god did well.