W.B.Yeats:Thetreesareintheirautumnbeauty,Thewoodlandspathsaredry,UndertheOctobertwilightthewaterMirrorsastillsky;UponthebrimmingwateramongthestonesArenine-and-fiftyswans.ThenineteenthautumnhascomeuponmeSinceIfirstmademycount;Isaw,beforeIhadwellfinished,AllsuddenlymountAndscatterwheelingingreatbroken