The Wild Swans
at Coole
The trees are in their autiman beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still skya
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine and fifty swans.
3
The nineteenth Autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.
I have looked
upon
those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.
Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or dimb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.
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