“The Black Swan” from The Black Swan (1946) and First Poems (1951)
Black on flat water past the jonquil lawns
Riding, the black swan draws
A private chaos warbling in its wake,
Assuming, like a fourth dimension, splendor
That calls the child with white ideas of swans
Nearer to that green lake
Where every paradox means wonder.
Though the black swan's arched neck is like
A question-mark on the lake,
The swan outlaws all possible questioning:
A thing in itself, like love, like submarine
Disaster, or the first sound when we wake;
And the swan-song it sings
Is the huge silence of the swan.
Illusion: the black swan knows how to break
Through expectation, beak
Aimed now at its own breast, now at its image,
And move across our lives, if the lake is life,
And by the gentlest turning of its neck
Transform, in time, time’s damage;
To less than a black plume, time’s grief.
Enchanter: the black swan has learned to enter
Sorrow’s lost secret center
Where, like a maypole separate tragedies
Are wound about a tower of ribbons, and where
The central hollowness is that pure winter
That does not change but is
Always brilliant ice and air.
Always the black swan moves on the lake; always
The blond child stands to gaze
As the tall emblem pivots and rides out
To the opposite side, always. The child upon
The bank, hands full of difficult marvels, stays
Forever to cry aloud
In anguish: I love the black swan.
“The Black Swan” from The First Nine (1983)
Black on flat water past the jonquil lawns
Riding, the black swan draws
A private chaos warbling in its wake,
Assuming, like a fourth dimension, splendor
That calls the child with white ideas of swans
Nearer to that green lake
Where every paradox means wonder.
Although the black neck arches not unlike
A question mark on the lake,
The swan outlaws all easy questioning:
A thing in itself, equivocal, foreknown,
Like pain, or women singing as we wake;
And the swan song it sings
Is the huge silence of the swan.
Illusion: the black swan knows how to break
Through expectation, beak
Aimed now at its own breast, now at its image,
And move across our lives, if the lake is life,
And by the gentlest turning of its neck
Transform, in time, time’s damage;
To less than a black plume, time’s grief.
Enchanter: the black swan has learned to enter
Sorrow’s lost secret center
Where, like a May fête, separate tragedies
Are wound in ribbons round the pole to share
A hollowness, a marrow of pure winter
That does not change but is
Always brilliant ice and air.
Always the black swan moves on the lake. Always
The moment comes to gaze
As the tall emblem pivots and rides out
To the opposite side, always. The blond child on
The bank, hands full of difficult marvels, stays
Now in bliss, now in doubt.
His lips move: I love the black swan.
Revisions of "The Black Swan" from the text of The Black Swan (1946) to that of From the First Nine(1983).
Excised passages from "The Black Swan."
In a letter to James Merrill dated October 3, 1946, Kimon Friar questioned what verb governed the phrase, “and where/ The central hollowness of that pure winter.” If it was the verb “is,” he suggested that the phrase was awkward, and Merrill changed it to "is that pure winter."
Friar also suggested that the “blurred effect” of the following lines could be fixed with clearer punctuation; but instead of revising Merrill dropped the lines:
And all the gardens cry
Poetics of neveraday
And have forgotten all they had learned of passing,
By blue refraction each fixed moment caught
Mica-winged dragonfly
And the pale sky mild, as though milk were laughing,
Enters the dreamer’s eye:
Friar also questioned a line that did not remain in the poem: “The larkspur, blue, takes morning by surprise.” He thought that if “blue” referred to the larkspur, it would be best to make it an adjective and remove the commas before and after “blue.”