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.”