THE WATCH OF A SWAN.
I read somewhere that a swan, snow-white,
In the sun all day, in the moon all night,
Alone by a little grave would sit
Waiting, and watching it.
In the sun all day, in the moon all night,
Alone by a little grave would sit
Waiting, and watching it.
Up out of the lake her mate would rise,
And call her down with his piteous cries
Into the waters still and dim;—
With cries she would answer him.
And call her down with his piteous cries
Into the waters still and dim;—
With cries she would answer him.
Hardly a shadow would she let pass
Over the baby's cover of grass;
Only the wind might dare to stir
The lily that watched with her.
Over the baby's cover of grass;
Only the wind might dare to stir
The lily that watched with her.
Do I think that the swan was an angel? Oh,
I think it was only a swan, you know,
That for some sweet reason, wingéd and wild,
Had the love of a bird for a child.
I think it was only a swan, you know,
That for some sweet reason, wingéd and wild,
Had the love of a bird for a child.