The Swan

John Tucker

Perhaps as swan in far off ancient Hindustan

Her grace gave harmony to Shiva's dance

And lofty flight bore up the soul of man.

So loved, returned, the love of man to chance.

Perhaps that insubstantial spark, her soul

Was made by God the heavy clay to leav'n

And found her earthly part in hard worked role,

By Art to give to all a glimpse of heav'n.

Yet poet's friend to him does sometimes seen

More like a soul uneasy in this clay...

Then happy he in face of beauteous beam

When torments gone she laughs in happy play

   So finds he swanly her; above, all grace,

   While underneath, well hid, the frantic pace!

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