THROTTLE THE SWAN

Wring the neck of the lying-feathered swan
That gives a white note to the fountain's blue:
Its prettiness is well enough, but on
The soul of things it can't say much to you.

Make away with every speech and every fashion
In which deep life's latent rhythm does not live;
Only Life itself adore with passion,
And make Life feel the homage that you give.

Observe the sober owl that takes his flight
From the Olymplan refuge Pallas made,
And gets himself in silence to that tree.

Although he has no swan's grace, you can see
His restless profile sharp against the shade,
Interpreting the mystery of night.