Snow In the gloom of whiteness, In the great silence of snow, A child was sighing And bitterly saying:`Oh, They have killed a white bird up there on her nest, The down is fluttering from her breast!` And still it fell through that dusky brightness On the child crying for the bird of the snow.
`The silver swan` The silver swan, who living had no note, When death approached unlocked her silent throat, Leaning her breast against the reedy shore, Thus sung her first and last and sung no more: Farewell all joys, O death come close mine eyes, More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.