THE MIGRATORY SWANS

A necklace in the depth of blue

Of scintillating, silvery pearls,

Which peering eagerly we view

As gracefully it curves and whirls,

Safely and swiftly, far away

They seek the groves of date and lime;

Naught can arrest and naught dismay

From heights so lofty and sublime.

In dreams alone their wintry home

Can haunt them with its ice and snow;

Mingled with visions as they come

Of shimmering waves where lilies grow

And open lakes are fresh and clear,

Fit mirror for a plumaged breast,

Shaded by moss-grown trees.‘ Tis here

They'll dip and dive in gleeful rest.

Vanished! and vainly do we try

To trace upon the distant air

That scroll which written on the sky

Told of the hand which led them there.

Could we upon our heavenward way

From tempting snares as far remove

And be as disenthralled as they,

We'd plainer show a guiding love.

We skim too closely to the earth,

We press too slowly for the prize,

Let thoughts and cares of trivial worth

Retard our journey to the skies.

Oh, let us watch and pray to have

A loftier flight from transient things,

Inspired like swans at last to lave

In streams of bliss our wearied wings!