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Quotes - Swans

 
Author Quotes
Heinrich HeineThe swan in the pool is singing, And up and down doth he steer, And, singing gently ever, Dips under the water clear.
Heinrich HeineAnd 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.
Heinrich HeineThe swan, like the soul of the poet, By the dull world is ill understood.
James ThomsonThe 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.
Phineas FletcherThe dying swan, when years her temples pierce, In music-strains breathes out her life and verse, And, chanting her own dirge, tides on her wat'ry hearse.
Marcus Tullius CiceroThe swan is not without cause dedicated to Apollo, because foreseeing his happiness in death, he dies with singing and pleasure.
Marcus Tullius CiceroDeath darkens his eyes, and unplumes his wings, Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings, Live so, my Love, that when death shall come, Swan-like and sweet it may waft thee home.
John MiltonThe swan, with arched neck Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows Her state with oary feet.
John MiltonThus does the white swan, as he lies on the wet grass, when the Fates summon him, sing at the fords of Maeander.
Lord Alfred TennysonThe wild swan's death-hymn took the soul Of that waste place with joy Hidden in sorrow, at first to the ear The warble was low, and full and clear.
Lord Alfred TennysonSome full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs.
Marcus Valerius MartialhtmThe swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself the singer of its own dirge.
Robert BurtonAll our geese are swans.
Thomas HoodThere's a double beauty whenever a swan Swims on a lake with her double thereon.
William WordsworthThe swan on still St. Mary's lake Float double, swan and shadow!
William ShakespeareHer tongue will not obey her heart, nor can Her heart inform her tongue--the swan's down-feather That stands upon the swell at full of tide, And neither way inclines.
William ShakespeareWe bodged again, as I have been a swan With bootless labor swim against the tide And spend her strength with overmatching waves.
William ShakespeareI am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, And from the organ-pipe of fraity sings His soul and body to their lasting rest.
William ShakespeareLet music sound while he doth make his choice, Then if he lose he makes a swanlike end, Fading in music.
William ShakespeareI will play the swan, And die in music.
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