The lake, a silver mirror in a frame of green; The swans on it but white fancies in a whiter dream. The enchanted bowl of blue below the rim, But a goblet with liquid diamonds, filled to the brim. White within white, a song in a sea, Painted within a mirror, green hill and tree. Moveless music, without murmur or moan; Swan-made curves, its tune, its measure, and tone. |