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THE DYING SWAN.
103
Flowed forth on a carol free and bold:
As when a mighty people rejoice
With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps of gold,
And the tumult of their acclaim is rolled
Through the open gates of the city afar,
To the shepherd who watcheth the evening star.
And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds,
And the willowbranches hoar and dank,
And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds,
And the waveworn horns of the echoing bank,
And the silvery marishflowers that throng
The desolate creeks and pools among,
Were flooded over with eddying song.
As when a mighty people rejoice
With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps of gold,
And the tumult of their acclaim is rolled
Through the open gates of the city afar,
To the shepherd who watcheth the evening star.
And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds,
And the willowbranches hoar and dank,
And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds,
And the waveworn horns of the echoing bank,
And the silvery marishflowers that throng
The desolate creeks and pools among,
Were flooded over with eddying song.
