| The Swan
On a hillside high above blue water Rolling like a cloud, behold the swan White as snow, soft as a pillow Folding out her wings, descending low Far below her lost in the city Solitary sits her daughter fair Coal black eyes as dark as a dungeon Heavy are the chains that hold her down High above she calls to her mother Knowing in her heart there’s more than this. Bides her time and patience is a virtue Surely in her dreams she’ll fly like a swan Surely in her dreams she’ll fly like a swan Sweet the swan song while like the wind blows Carrying the sounds of breaking hearts O’er this land and down to the river Sometimes when she calls, the answers come And in her voice the words they come easy Silver are the notes, so graceful bound And all this world is filled with her gladness Joyous are the wings that carry her now Mornings broken, cracked like a mirror Reflected in the changing seasons fall If beauties more than eyes can beholden Surely in her dreams she’ll fly like a swan (D. Morton) |
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