This page has been validated.
101
THE DYING SWAN.
The plain was grassy, wild and bare,
Wide, wild, and open to the air,
Which had built up everywhere
An underroof of doleful grey.
With an inner voice the river ran,
Adown it floated a dying swan,
Which loudly did lament.
It was the middle of the day,
Ever the weary wind went on,
And took the reedtops as it went.
Wide, wild, and open to the air,
Which had built up everywhere
An underroof of doleful grey.
With an inner voice the river ran,
Adown it floated a dying swan,
Which loudly did lament.
It was the middle of the day,
Ever the weary wind went on,
And took the reedtops as it went.
