The
Wild Swans
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.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTwBHURKCQvTd9bZdbE_0-sbv0_e2B7QiBcBUrg4FBja-h-7aGJgTZMaby6BKb9DpaqW8WNptzJeyijDdcM3f2V-JZXfLX1cnUuUqwnWQi6Eo0GGs0takqItp9w386fMI9u5j-QtsWbb8/s320/Two-Swans-Wallpaper.jpg)
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~
With Love Jasmina
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