Uploaded June 2025 | Updated September 2026, 1 week ago

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Lyric: Oscar Wilde

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 have looked upon those brilliant creatures
And now my heart is sore

Their hearts have not grown old
They swim on, and swim on
And their hearts have not grown old
But I, being human, have grown old
Though seventy autumns have flown

And I have been faithful to them
Counting each lovely swan
But now my thoughts are wandering
Where have all my dreams gone?

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures
And now my heart is sore

Their hearts have not grown old
They swim on, and swim on
And their hearts have not grown old
But I, being human, have grown old
Though seventy autumns have flown

And no swift wing
Shall scatter the brilliant creatures again.