Leda Analysis

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Where the slow rivermeets the tide,

a red swan lifts red wings

and darker beak,

and underneath the purple down

of his soft breast

uncurls his coral feet.Through the deep purple

of the dying heat

of sun and mist,

the level ray of sun-beam

has caressed

the lily with dark breast,

and flecked with richer gold

its golden crest.Where the slow liftingof the tide,floats into the riverand slowly driftsamong the reeds,and lifts the yellow flags,he floatswhere tide and river meet.Ah kingly kiss-no more regretnor old deep memoriesto mar the bliss;where the low sedge is thick,the gold day-lilyoutspreads and restsbeneath soft flutteringof red swan wings.

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