LINES TO A CYGNET
You do not know that you are beautiful,
For when a human being bends its head
Towards the water, instinct tells you bread
Will soon be cast, and you look up in hope.
I have no bread, though gladly I would give.
Myopic as I am, I only seek
To scan your purity and graceful poise.
Older and prouder, and a heart less pure
Cloaked by your adult whiteness, you will find
The power you have to captivate Mankind.