LEGENDS OF WILD SWANS
The Wild Swans at Coole
W.B.Yeats
The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a clear sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.
…
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
