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Dublin Swans
“Wholly serene and sure,
with regal composure,
[the swan] allows himself to glide.”
—Rainer Maria Rilke, “The Swan”
I stop to watch the swans swim by,
__Through lily pads they pass.
Mounds of rubbish clog the water
__That winds through clumps of grass.
The birds float by so leisurely,
__So big, and proud, and slow,
Heedless of the piles of litter
__That block the water’s flow.
The big white birds, they sail on by;
__They ply these Dublin seas,
Past plastic bags and floating rags
__In water stained like tea.
They cruise canals of brackish water,
__Patrolling Dublin’s shores,
Past the relics of old churches
__And rows of Georgian doors.
Upon these mirrored lengths of water,
__Beneath a silver moon,
These feathered ghosts swim to and fro;
__They haunt the evening gloom.
But bright morning spoils the picture.
__Amid the urban sprawl,
On oily foam, swans make their home
__Beside a moldy wall.
These majestic lords of nature,
__They ride the algae tides,
Through labyrinth winding waterways,
__Along their reedy sides.
These feathered boats immaculate,
__They sail these inland waves,
Amid the droning of the traffic,
__Through Dublin’s urban maze.
Far from home and friends in Dublin,
__Where I have lost my way,
I watch the swans go sailing by
__As daylight ebbs away.
.
.
Louis Groarke is a professor in the Philosphy Department of St. Francis Xavier University, in Canada. He has published short stories and poems in various literary venues but is a philosopher by trade. He recently published a book on literary criticism Uttering the Unutterable: Aristotle, Religion, and Literature (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2023). In effect, it provides a traditional response to post-modernism.
Your poem at once is both somber and enchanting. I felt your love for the swans and Dublin along with sadness for the stark realities facing such lovely birds. There is vivid magic in your words and insertion of masterful rhyme. Thank you for sharing with us!
Thanks very much Roy; I appreciate the generous comments.
This feels like a poem examining the twilight of a species. Let’s hope the authorities in Dublin sit up and listen. Why not see if you can get the poem published by an Irish publication?
Thanks for the read, Louis.
I started the poem about 10 years ago when I was distressed by the garbage floating in the Grand Canal, with, nonetheless, those majestic Dublin swans floating by. The last time I was over it had been cleaned up somewhat, but not completely. I am not sure what is happening now. I wanted to capture something bittersweet: an image of beauty in spite of or alongside the detritus of urban modernity. Thanks for your comment, Paul.
The main problem for swans in English waterways used to be lead weights on fishing lines that got snagged on vegetation and then ingested by the birds.
Awareness campaigns and legislation (the Control of Pollution ( Angler’s Lead weights) Regulations 1986) has largely sorted that problem out, thank goodness. Now swans are free to range the riverbanks biting the ankles of anyone they take a dislike to and pleasing the riverside artists.
I feel my own swan poem coming on, Louis…
This is not only a poem on a gang of enchanting birds cruising through the Dublin waters, attracting attention, but also on the poor and sorry state of the water channel. Your varied description of the birds gives life to the poem: feathered ghosts, majestic lords of nature, and fathered boats immaculate. The insertion of some trochaic lines between the iambic ones refreshes the poem. It’s a wonderful piece, Louis. Thanks for sharing it.
Thank you, Shamik; yes, the swans were lovely; the water rather less so. I hope the poem captures something about the modern era… something about nature, still beautiful in the ruins; perhaps there is some hope there as well; perennial nature serving up beautiful transcendent images. Thanks, again,
The final stanza made me reflect on the parallel between the swan´s surviving nobly amidst squalorous conditions and your own situation as someone who is “far from home and friends in Dublin! and who has “lost his way.” Are you suggesting that the thought of the swans in Dublin managing to live their lives in less than ideal circumstances serves as an inspiration for you to persevere amidst personal difficulties? Is the poem about rising nobly above advesity to survive and thrive?
Hi Martin, Yes, absolutely; without being didactic, the swans do provide an. image of resilience in spite of the shoddiness of modern life and our throw-away culture. Earlier versions of the poem did not have the autobiographical reference at the end; but I wanted to take a turn and make it personal with a human parallel. To bring the poet into the scene. I liked the water image of daylight “ebbing” away (like the sea) with a bit of a melancholy twist at the end. Thanks for your thoughts,
The swimmingly smooth meter of the poem persuades, before anything else, that something is right in Dublin. The beauty and nonchalance of the swans form a lively contrast with the menacing deadness of debris that threatens them. How close they are to it, and how the reader hopes it will not sicken them! There is also concern for the speaker, lost and yet not eager, it seems, to find himself or be found while the swans are present, even though daylight is ebbing away.
A minor theme in the poem is water, mentioned over and over, though not emphasized. This perhaps refers to a kind of cleansing quality present in the polluted urban streams. The poem is a beautiful one despite the uneasiness of trash and filth observed. The quality of language lives up to the enchantment of lovely material images in swans and moon.
Thank you very much, Margaret; I appreciate the comment about the meter; I like to use short lines because it is a challenge, but, absolutely, I wanted the poem to flow, along with all the watery imagery. The swans in moonlight really are beautiful in Dublin! I was trying to communicate beauty in urban waste; beauty that remains and indeed pervades a big modern city in spite of everything. I think the poet is a bit lonely but enchanted by the purity of the birds parading. As I said above: the bittersweet; the beautiful and not so beautiful side by side. Uplifting but not overly sentimental. It is a bit hard to describe! Thanks for your generous comments, L.
Good work, indeed. The theme of beauty among the ruins as it were, is one toward which I’m deeply sympathetic. The fact that the swans are untouched by it also resonates deeply. As Margaret noted, the smoothness of the meter enhances the effect of moving through the world, or has been better said, “being in the world, not of it.”
Looking forward to more!
Thanks Daniel; the encouragement is much appreciated, L.
This is a poem of contrasts: the beautiful, seemingly immortal white swans against the filth of a degenerated landscape. Despite the latter, the image of the swan gives us something to hope for. The image of the “ghosts” at night was a nice “moment of clarity” in the midst of the otherwise drab imagery. The musicality of the ballad form you use does not detract from the forlornness of the poem, but transforms it into a song of lamentation.
From the subject and the setting I couldn’t help but think of Yeats’s “The Wild Swans at Coole.” Your poem, though a world away stylistically, still invokes the same emotions: a sense of loss and nostalgia, and at the end of arriving at inner peace — though I would add that you give a sense of hope that is lacking in Yeats’s poem.