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The Silver Swan who, living, had no note,
When death approached, unlocked her silent throat.
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
Thus sung her first and last,
And sung no more:
"Farewell all joys, O death come close mine eyes.
More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise."
Orlando Gibbons
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Our Company is currently inactive, and our future activities are all on hold.
Please contact me if you have any questions or comments.
Thank You.
Crispin
Email :
Lord Crispin d'Ardenne
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~On thy fair bosom, silver lake,
The wild swan spreads his snowy sail,
And round his breast the ripples break
As down he bears before the gale.
James G. Percival
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