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The swan, like the soul of the poet,
By the dull world is ill understood.
The swan, like the soul of the poet,
By the dull world is ill understood.
And over the pond are sailing
Two swans all white as snow;
Sweet voices mysteriously wailing
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And over the pond are sailing
Two swans all white as snow;
Sweet voices mysteriously wailing
Pierce through me as onward they go.
They sail along, and a ringing
Sweet melody rises on high;
And when the swans begin singing,
They presently must die.
The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy
Hidden in sorrow: at read more
The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy
Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear
The warble was low, and full and clear.
Death darkens his eyes, and unplumes his wings,
Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings:
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Death darkens his eyes, and unplumes his wings,
Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings:
Live so, my Love, that when death shall come,
Swan-like and sweet it may waft thee home.
There's a double beauty whenever a swan
Swims on a lake with her double thereon.
There's a double beauty whenever a swan
Swims on a lake with her double thereon.
Coal-black is better than another hue
In that it scorns to bear another hue;
For all the read more
Coal-black is better than another hue
In that it scorns to bear another hue;
For all the water in the ocean
Can never turn the swan's black legs to white,
Although she lave them hourly in the flood.
Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
Her heart inform her tongue--the swan's down-feather
That read more
Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
Her heart inform her tongue--the swan's down-feather
That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
And neither way inclines.
The dying swan, when years her temples pierce,
In music-strains breathes out her life and verse,
And, read more
The dying swan, when years her temples pierce,
In music-strains breathes out her life and verse,
And, chanting her own dirge, tides on her wat'ry hearse.
We bodged again, as I have been a swan
With bootless labor swim against the tide
And read more
We bodged again, as I have been a swan
With bootless labor swim against the tide
And spend her strength with overmatching waves.