“The wild swans rise from earth,
Strong in the path of the sun.
How should it give them mirth
With his great day begun?
Upward the white wings fly,
Clouds in the bluest blue,
Far they soar—and high!—
Would I might follow too.”
And again after awhile she sang a great hymn of the ancient Scripture but lower still:
“Though difference be none, I am of Thee,