The Wild Swans at Coole (The Woodlands) Lyrics

The woodland paths are dry.
Under the October twilights the water
Mirrors a still sky:
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty Swans.
The autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count:
I saw, before I had well finished.
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.

I looked upon these brilliant creatures,
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
They paddle in the cold
Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Unwearied still, lover by lover,
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,
Delight men's eyes, when I awake some day
To find they have flown away.