The Song of Wandering Aengus

W B 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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About Alan

Settling into my 7th decade and still determined not to grow up too soon.
This entry was posted in autobiography, travel and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Song of Wandering Aengus

  1. Pilgrim33 says:

    Might be a good time for you to re-read The White Goddess.

    Like

    • Alan says:

      I left my copy in the lockup in NZ. I don’t expect to see it again. There is a library of books, DVDs, art, a collection of tools and bric a brac, and FSM knows what else I left.

      I am too busy wandering through hollow lands and hilly lands to go back there.

      Like

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