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1842–1930

THE MIGRATORY SWANS

Nannie R. 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!

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THE MIGRATORY SWANS · Nannie R. Glass · Poetry Cove