| 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 |
5 |
| 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 |
10 |
| 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, |
15 |
| 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, |
20 |
| 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 |
25 |
| 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? |
30 |