The virginal, living and lovely day
Will it fracture for us with a drunken wing-blow
This solid lost lake whose frosts haunted below
By the transparent glacier of flights not made?
A swan from time past remembers its he
Magnificent yet freeing himself hopelessly
Through not having sung of a liveable country
In the radiant boredom of winters sterility.
His neck will shake off this whitest agony
Space inflicts on a bird that denies it, wholly,
But not earths horror that traps his feathers.
Phantom assigned to this place by his brilliance,
In his useless exile swathed, motionless,
By the Swans cold dream of defiance.
