The swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself
the singer of its own dirge.

The swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself
the singer of its own dirge.

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 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.

The swan, with arched neck
Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows
Her state with oary feet.

The swan, with arched neck
Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows
Her state with oary feet.

Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
Where nothing save the waves and I
May hear our mutual read more

Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
Where nothing save the waves and I
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
There, swan-like, let me sing and die.

The jelous swan, agens hire deth that syngith.

The jelous swan, agens hire deth that syngith.

I will play the swan,
And die in music.

I will play the swan,
And die in music.

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.

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.