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?
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Swans are fabulous when they swim, but when they fly they would inspire anyone to poetry. Imagine seeing fifty-nine!
Yeats's heart was sore not because he was single but because so much had changed (for the worse) since he started counting swans at Coole nineteen years before. Swans don't breed until they are 3 or 4, so there would be plenty of single birds in the flock. -
This is a wonderful poem, and I can't help but feel for Yeats in line 6. The whole idea that there are only "nine-and-fifty Swans" when swans mate for life is powerful. The idea that he is alone like that last swan - powerful image.
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This poem has deeply effected me.its about life ,how it goes on ,we move on in life but things remain the same-the swans will always be there but Yeats won't be
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wrarr....
after reading this poem i feel so wild that i feel like saying wrarr again and again....and again...............forever and ever.......wrarr...i will keep on saying till i take my last breath..........wrarr... -
ggreat
i think this poem is beautiful and love the way yeats has described his life in this way using such a beautiul creature. -
i love how he goes from a concrete point, talking about swans, to the abstract of the swans only being there to represent his lost youth.
this is a great poem about Yeat's realization of his lost youth. beautiful. -
Wonderful poem about nature......
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glad someone commented. I think this is pretty much as good as it gets,
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HAHA, I just read that this is a W.B. Yeats poem.... Now I feel a bloody fool for commenting on it. =/ oh well. Its all good.
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thumbs up
Wonderful Imagery in a classic style. There is so much nature packed into this piece that I could smell the moist earth. You have no idea how much that means to me.... its an escape from the concrete junlge. Thank you for sharing this wonderfully written piece.
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