Swan

White ghost glides on the darkened mere,
With graceful neck coiled into space,
In peace that knows no inward fear,
She leaves a wake of laughing lace.

In rolling ripple's dancing moon,
A cygnet seeks her preening queen,
Who wakes a sylvan-piper's tune
That floats through glades of living green

The slow span of her spreading wings,
Flings splashing stars on seas of night:
And where their breeze-borne echo rings,
The spectral swan will pass from sight.