Thoughts,Songs,Writings,Rants,Encouragements, and Life

Saturday, September 09, 2006

The song of wandering Aengus

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 on a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth like stars were fleckering out,
I dropped the berry in the stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire flame,
But something rustled on the floor
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom's 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 tkiae her hands,
And walk along long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

-W.B. Yeats


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