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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
and scatter
wheeling in great broken wings
i have
looked upon those brilliant creatures and now my heart is sore
unwearied
still lover by lover they paddle in the cold their hearts have not grown old
delight
men’s eyes when i awake some day to find they have flown away?