The silver swan, who, living had no note, When death approached unlocked her silent throat.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
When the baby dies, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud. The baby was not wrapped in any shroud. The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed That men's eyes might not see Her misery.
She died praying that she might die.
Be as a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels bending beneath her, still she sings away all the same, knowing she has wings.
She had been dying so long that I had almost come to regard her as immortal.
There is no one, says another, whom fortune does not visit once in his life; but when she does not find him ready to receive her, she walks in at the door, and flies out at the window.
Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.
There are many types of silence. There is a silence before the note, there is a silence at the end and there is a silence in the middle.
The Dove, on silver pinions, winged her peaceful way.
Swans sing before they die - 'twere no bad thing should certain persons die before they sing.
No bird has ever uttered note That was not in some first bird's throat; Since Eden's freshness and man's fall No rose has been original.