The Wild Swan

By George Sterling

Soon shall the morning break
  To the wide, immortal blue.
Like a swan on a midnight lake
  In my dream are you.

Will you fly when the darkness flies,
  Leaving but dark to me?
And alone on the windy skies
  Shall your passing be?

I shall never know your wings,
  Though I see them lift and go.
Faintly the first bird sings
  And the heavens are aglow.

On its ancient path of light,
  Leading forever to-west,
Hurries the day that is night.
  Farewell, snows of the breast!

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