On the tiny lake with the fairy bridge, where the rainbow fountains play,
The grass slopes down to the water’s edge, in an easy, velvet way;
And there the white bird-boats float by, in a long, parading line,
And I am a princess on the shore, to play they are really mine.
Some birds belong to the sky and hills, and some must stay in the tree,
The wee brown partridge runs in the grass,—as wild as a bird can be;
They all belong to the free outdoors, the eagles, the owls, and the larks,
But the tall white swans, with their stately necks, were made for the city parks.
As they sail along in their proudest way, with their feet a-dabble behind,
Their stiff starched tails stand up in a row, the crispiest tails you’ll find;
Now they are still, where the willows are, a-float on their spreading wings,
And upside down they are pictured there,—the pretty white china things!