Back to Index

Wild Swans

by Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1921

I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more;
Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,
House without air, I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come over
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!

Published in Second April
Tags: birds

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.