Proud, indifferent, slow, they have fled, they have flown away, The peaco*ks white as snow, lest weariness awake; I see the birds of snow, the white birds of To-day, The birds that fly away before my slumber break; Proud, indifferent, slow, the white birds of To-day, Winning with indolent flight the shores of the sunless lake; The birds of listless thought, I hear them on their way, Indolently waiting for the sunless day to break.