The Swan

This heaviness - toiling on as if bound
Through a landscape of things forever finished,
Is like the awkward walking of the swan.

And dying -- this no longer holding
Of that ground we stand on every day,
Like his cautious lowering himself

Into the water, which received him gently
And which, so happy in its passing,
Withdraws beneath him, wave upon wave;
While he, infinitely still and sure,
With ever greater confidence and royalty
and self-possession deigns to glide.
~Rainer Maria Rilke

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The Lady of Shalott