Proud, indifferent, slow, they have fled, they have flown away,
The peacocks white as snow, lest weariness awake;
I see the birds of snow, the white birds of To-day,
The birds that fly away before my slumber break;
Proud, indifferent, slow, the white birds of To-day,
Winning with indolent flight the shores of the sunless lake;
The birds of listless thought, I hear them on their way,
Indolently waiting for the sunless day to break.