The Black Swan

Here is the high noon like the luminous night:

No stirring in the leaves, the speared grass

Pointed against the foot that would trespass

Upon the lake which has encompassed light.

Forever dark, fern-patterned at the edge,

With burning heart consuming the fixed sun

Or the poised moon, though never a ripple run

Over the calm-browed water to the sedge.

Across this mirror sculpturesque a swan

Moves without motion, centered, light-enscrolled,

Sings until death, black swan on swan of gold;

Burns like a phoenix in the furious dawn:

Heraldic song; the burning chariots rise,

The trees flamboyant march the kindled mountain,

The cauldron lake bursts into fiery fountain

Spraying the hills, emblazoning the skies.

A cinder swan one moment at the height

Of the abandoned fountain lays her wings

Over its blaze, and there celestial sings.

The fountain dies, the lake consumes its light.

MOONRISE

Here at earth's heart the miracle is near:

Of heights past drive of limbs, of scimitar

Bright cliffs the mind has lost its fear;