Leda was wearied of her state, the crown

Leda was wearied of her state, the crown was heavy on her head;
She put the crown away,
And ran down to the river-bed
For a whole holiday.

She came to draw free, lonely breaths beside the mellow, autumn pools;
Counting their starry drops.
She mused on the lone god who rules
Above the mountain-tops.

And, as she worshipped him with secret heart, among the willow-trees
She felt how something sailed
And gathered round her as a breeze:
The breath within her failed.

There were white feathers on her breast when she awoke; the water stirred
With motion of white wings,
And in her ear that note she heard
The swan a-dying sings.