wild swans

THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE

THE trees are in their
autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight
the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water
among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty Swans.
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 climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;

Passion or conquest, wander
where they will,
Attend upon them still.
But now they drift
on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes
will they build,

By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?

William Butler Yeats