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The Wild Swans at Coole
| The trees are in their autumn beauty, | | The woodland paths are dry, | | Under the October twilight the water | | Mirror 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? |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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