The Wild Swans at Coole
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The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the sloping bank I can see
The wild swans come and go.
I have looked upon those faces long and
I am not sorry for that.

I am thinking of the gift of beauty
And of the beauty of the swans.
I am thinking, as they pass,
Of the day of going away;
Of the day of coming to this bank
Again and again, with the swans.

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
And I am aware of beauty
As the leaves fall; but they will be there
Until the frost is on the trees,
Until the day turns to night,
And I shall remain,
And be granted more beauty from the swans.

• Edna St Vincent Millay