White Swan Black Swan

Sleepeth thou darkling, fade.... How privy thy existence made, to shade the feathered extremity thy plumage gave; a kiss unto pools sleeping white at noon.... neath bowers in waking rain, through arbors, dripping and brawn The black swan returns again, ('tis no shame to love him so) Seeker of the serfs; with slow power he fends her, such flight to beating wing, to dawn never ending (seizing watery throne) Thou art royal among the waters and scarlet skies make pink thy billowed white hues; Little boats of lovers sigh your white-spirit near How good omen fosters good cheer ---- How blessed they feel your presence here, grace upon the gentle waves There is black among the pond, sable Lord from Melbourne; his speech unruly and red, Likened his beak with surly scarlet throngs, how honest his nature bequeathed (how darkling his arbors met) floating in the nestles, watching with spring-fed breeze And she to him, a Queen of fair hope: " Shall I call thee white love? " said he Keith O.J. Hunt (C) 2014