In the water
On the shore
Not afraid of humans
Or each other 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?
(The Wild Swans at Coole (1919), by William Butler Yeats)
4 comments:
Wow you sure are seeing all kinds of fun stuff. I almost hit a coyote on my way to work this morning, it was too fast for a picture though
Seems like overpopulation of swans to me, but maybe this is an eons-long gathering place for them.
Coyote was too wily for you, eh?
Quite a flotilla .... The poem's musings were such an interesting contrast to the reality of those big birds ...
Is this the same pond where you saw the brant?
Both were at Setauket Harbor, not a pond
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