The Wild Swans at Coole Joseph Huber

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The trees are in their autumn beauty
The woodland paths are dry
Under October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty, nine-and-fifty, ah 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 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

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