Spoke a Loon to her Lover

Spoke a loon to her lover

When the moon hung above ‘er

And the lake lay as still as a clam:

“Dear, I wish I could be

A swan like she

Who passed above us this morning.

Did you see her my dear,

How she flew without fear

And took in the stars with her wings?”

But the lover was silent

And sighed in the quiet,

And cooed a most sorrowful note.

“My darling,” he said,

As she cocked her head,

“You will never be a swan.”

And startled, the loon

Looked away, toward the moon,

And sobbed while her lover embraced her.

“You will never become

A swift swan like the ones

Who fly like the angels above,

But you are a loon,

A black beautiful bird,

And it’s you, O my dearest, I love.”