The Wild Swans at Coole - by
The trees are in their autumn beauty,
/ The woodland paths are dry,
/ Under the October twilight the water …
The trees are in their autumn beauty,
/ The woodland paths are dry,
/ Under the October twilight the water …
The year goes, the woods decay, and after,
many a summer dies. The swan
on Bingham’s pond, a ghost, comes and goes.
The hired van speeds down dual carriageways
/ containing us who function or don’t function
/ as chemicals trigger off and trigger on
/ the infinitely…
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