The swan, like the soul of the poet,
	By the dull world is ill understood.

Heine.    

Martial.    

	The swan, with arched neck
	Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows
	Her state with oary feet.

Milton.    

	The swan in the pool is singing,
	And up and down doth he steer,
	And, singing gently ever,
	Dips under the water clear.

Heine.    

	As I have seen a swan
	With bootless labour swim against the tide
	And spend her strength with over-matching waves.

Shakespeare.    

	The stately-sailing swan
	Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale;
	And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet
	Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier isle,
	Protective of his young.

Thomson.    

	And over the pond are sailing
	Two swans all white as snow;
	Sweet voices mysteriously wailing
	Pierce through me as onward they go.
	They sail along, and a ringing
	Sweet melody rises on high;
	And when the swans begin singing,
	They presently must die.

Heine.