I
NT 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
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floorI went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering
With apple blossom in her
Who called me by my name and
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with
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
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
