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!