Classic Poem

From out a bright cloud's purple band
A swan, one eve in June,
Sank softly to a river strand
And sang a gladsome tune.

All of the Northland was his song,
Of how the sky is fair,
How day forgets the whole night long
And never slumbers there.

How shadows there are rich and bold
'Neath birch and alder brave,
How every bay is touched with gold,
And cool is every wave.

How sweet, how sweet beyond compare
To have a friend there too,
How faith would ever sojourn there,
To its own birthplace true.

And so from wave to wavelet's crest
His song of praise would stray,
Until upon his true-love's breast
He leaned, as if to say:

Though of your life's too fleeting dream
No future age may sing,
You loved beside a northern stream,
You sang there in the spring.