Monday, December 30, 2013

The Black Swan... 2014

  Black on flat water past the jonquil lawns
       Riding, the black swan draws
  A private chaos warbling in its wake,
  Assuming, like a fourth dimension, splendor   
  That calls the child with white ideas of swans   
       Nearer to that green lake
    Where every paradox means wonder.
Though the black swan’s arched neck is like   
       A question-mark on the lake,
  The swan outlaws all possible questioning:   
  A thing in itself, like love, like submarine   
  Disaster, or the first sound when we wake;
       And the swan-song it sings
    Is the huge silence of the swan.

….  by James Merrill