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Did you too see it, drifting, all night on the black river? Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air - An armful of white blossoms, A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies, Biting the air with its black beak? Did you hear it, fluting and whistling, A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a Knifing down the black ledges? And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds - A white cross Streaming across the sky. The Swan by Mary Oliver.