The old man brought porridge and nothing else. The swan, in little hopes about down, got £60 for her neck and lodgings in the field and would not give bedding like a fool.

Dave Bonta

At some point in my late teens, I took over from my dad as chief executioner. I think it bothered me slightly less than it bothered him, a life-long pacifist. a V of swans my fingers still sticky with chicken blood

Dave Bonta

Over the Hills

Dear Todd, I was taking the broom for a slow shuffle around the dining room when I heard the fluting of wild swans & rushed out, scanning the sky till I spotted the long wedge high above the hollow, heading north. They were as dark against the sky as we must be to them against the ground, pausing in our Sunday labors, mouths open as the swans pass over the train tracks & the river, over the interstate & the quarry’s enormous silent megaphone, over a cardinal singing in a barberry hedge, over junker cars & houses sheathed in fading asphalt shingles, over old carpets left out in the yard

W. B. Yeats

The Wild Swans at Coole

The trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky; Upon the brimming water among the stones Are nine and fifty swans. The nineteenth Autumn has come upon me Since I first made my count; I saw, before I had well finished, All suddenly mount And scatter wheeling in great broken rings Upon their clamorous wings. I have looked upon those brilliant creatures, And now my heart is sore. All's changed since I, hearing at twilight, The first time on this shore,

Sara Teasdale

Swans

Night is over the park, and a few brave stars Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold, The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars That seem too heavy for tremulous water to hold. We watch the swans that sleep in a shadowy place, And now and again one wakes and uplifts its head; How still you are--your gaze is on my face-- We watch the swans and never a word is said.

Sara Teasdale

In Spring, Santa Barbara

I have been happy two weeks together, My love is coming home to me, Gold and silver is the weather And smooth as lapis is the sea. The earth has turned its brown to green After three nights of humming rain, And in the valleys peck and preen Linnets with a scarlet stain. High in the mountains all alone The wild swans whistle on the lakes, But I have been as still as stone, My heart sings only when it breaks.

Lola Ridge

Mother

Your love was like moonlight turning harsh things to beauty, so that little wry souls reflecting each other obliquely as in cracked mirrors... beheld in your luminous spirit their own reflection, transfigured as in a shining stream, and loved you for what they are not. You are less an image in my mind than a luster I see you in gleams pale as star-light on a gray wall... evanescent as the reflection of a white swan shimmering in broken water.

Joseph Campbell

I Wish and I Wish

I wish and I wish And I wish I were A golden bee In the blue of the air, Winging my way At the mouth of day To the honey marges Of Loch-ciuin-ban; Or a little green drake, Or a silver swan, Floating upon The stream of Aili, And I to be swimming Gaily, gaily!

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