Wallace Stevens - Invective Against Swans lyrics

The soul, O ganders, flies beyond the parks And far beyond the discords of the wind. A bronze rain from the sun descending marks The d**h of summer, which that time endures Like one who scrawls a listless testament Of golden quirks and Paphian caricatures, Bequeathing your white feathers to the moon And giving your bland motions to the air. Behold, already on the long parades The crows anoint the statues with their dirt. And the soul, O ganders, being lonely, flies Beyond your chill chariots, to the skies.