WHEN in sorrow, they dare not show it, However mournful their mood, For the swan, like the soul of the poet, By the dull world is ill understood. And in their death-hour they waken The air, and break into song; And, unless my ears are mistaken, They sing now, while sailing along. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHANNON AND THE CHESAPEAKE [JUNE 1, 1813] by THOMAS TRACY BOUVE THE DANCERS by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY THE INDIAN BURYING GROUND by PHILIP FRENEAU ONE'S-SELF I SING by WALT WHITMAN THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN by AESOP |