Someday dreaming...

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 saw, before I had well finished, All suddenly mount And scatter wheeling in great broken rings   Upon their clamorous wings. I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,   And now my heart is sore. All’s changed since I, hearing at twilight,   The first time on this shore, The bell-beat of their wings above my head,   Trod with a lighter tread. Unwearied still, lover by lover, They paddle in the cold Companionable streams or climb the air;   Their hearts have not grown old; Passion or conquest, wander where they will,   Attend upon them still. But now they drift on the still water,   Mysterious, beautiful;   Among what rushes will they build, By what lake’s edge or pool Delight men’s eyes when I awake some day   To find they have flown away?

Woman does not emerge from a man’s rib’s, not ever, it’s he who emerges from her womb.