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.


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.


    • 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.


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