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Saturday, February 18, 2017

THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE: BY W.B. YEATS: FORWARDED BY CYNTHIA ABEGAIL


THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE


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...
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
Companiable strems or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old...


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?



W. B. Yeats
The swans is a collective symbol of the enigmatic
and beautiful Ireland that he purposely revive
among his people. A talented poet: he was awarded
the coveted Pulitzer prize in poetry.

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