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