While swans came floating to me on the tide
Of the strong Seine, which royally they rode
With ruffled snowy plumage and arched necks
Out of the distance sailing, like a fleet,
And turned their course toward a reedy isle
Where each one preened its plumage till soft eve
With shuttered eyelids lulled them into sleep.
So, even as this isle unto the swans,
Peace seemed to me a welcome harbourage;
I counted now each step beyond clear gain