That overlooked a deep sequestered pool,
Where slumbering in a grove-encircled bay
Lake Minnetonka’s purest waters lay.
Unto the brink she rushed, but faltered there—
Life to the young is sweet; in vain her eye
Swept for a moment grove and wave and sky
With mute appeal. But see, two white swans fair
Gleamed from the shadows that o’erhung the shore,
Like moons emerging from a sable screen;
Swimming abreast, what haughty king and queen,