The Falcon

The falcon soars both far and high, He spreads his pinions in the sky; Then from his cloudy heights he lowers, And seats him on the city’s towers: He sees a laughing girl of grace, In crystal water bathe her face; And looks with open, eager eye Upon her neck of ivory: White as the snow upon the mountain; And there he hears a youth recounting His tale of love.—“Now bend thy head Upon thy snowy neck,” he said; “Its whiteness is too bright for me: And ’neath it sorrowing heart may be.”