Nine and Fifty Swans

During our trip, our class read and discussed many works by W.B. Yeats, one of the dominant figures of Irish 20th century literature.  Reading discussing Yeats in Jess and Bonnie's 'living room' in Galway was enlightening, but could not compare to when we visited Coole Park.  Reading The Wild Swans at Coole, while breathing in the very landscape that inspired the poem edged on sublime.  We sat at a clearing, and read The Wild Swans at Coole aloud, and discussed the underlying theme of the poem.  

Yeats was constantly exploring the idea of change.  Sitting in the clearing echoed the otherwise escapable notion of physical fluidity that would have been undoubtedly lost in a classroom.  While the ambiance was the same, or so I'd like to imagine, the details were very different.  Nine and fifty swans, Yeats had poetically observed.  I looked for swans too.  I observed 0.  It's a strange duality to comprehend: nature is constant, the landscape always providing an inspiring backdrop, and yet in the long term, it is just as transitory as the manufactured.  Where are Yeats' swans?  All 59 of them are gone leaving a fading memory of the landscape we can only hope to understand through Yeats' poetic observations.