The Wild Swans at Coole
The trees are in their autumn beauty and the woodland paths are dry when the poet counts fifty-nine swans drifting on the still water of Lady Gregory's lake. Nineteen autumns have gone since he first counted them, and before he had finished that time the birds rose and scattered in great broken rings; their hearts have not grown old and his has. Written in the years when both Maud Gonne and her daughter had refused him.
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- 83% · 11 shared
- 81% · 11 shared
- 77% · 10 shared
- 72% · 10 shared
- 70% · 11 shared
- 70% · 10 shared