The Song of Wandering Aengus – Yeats


I WENT out to the hazel wood,    

Because a fire was in my head,    

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,    

And hooked a berry to a thread;    

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,    

I dropped the berry in a stream    

And caught a little silver trout.    


When I had laid it on the floor    

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,    

And someone called me by my name:    

It had become a glimmering girl    

With apple blossom in her hair    

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.    


Though I am old with wandering    

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,    

I will find out where she has gone,    

And kiss her lips and take her hands;    

And walk among long dappled grass,    

And pluck till time and times are done,    

The silver apples of the moon,    

The golden apples of the sun.    



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