Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Sarah Morgan BryanPiatt

673 The Watch of a Swan

I READ somewhere that a swan, snow-white,

In the sun all day, in the moon all night,

Alone by a little grave would sit

Waiting, and watching it.

Up out of the lake her mate would rise,

And call her down with his piteous cries

Into the waters still and dim:—

With cries she would answer him.

Hardly a shadow would she let pass

Over the baby’s cover of grass;

Only the wind might dare to stir

The lily that watched with her.

Do I think that the swan was an angel? Oh,

I think it was only a swan, you know,

That for some sweet reason, wingëd and wild,

Had the love of a bird for a child.