William Butler Yeats

(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939 / County Dublin / Ireland)

The Wild Swans At Coole - Poem by William Butler Yeats

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?


Comments about The Wild Swans At Coole by William Butler Yeats

  • Silver Star - 3,102 Points Howard 'the motivational poet' Simon (12/14/2014 6:22:00 PM)

    Full of feelings.....................................................................................! (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: autumn, october, water, passion, beautiful, beauty, sky, mirror, tree, change



Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 17, 2001



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