The Migratory Swans
By Nancy Rebecca Campbell Glass
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!