Poetry
William Butler
Yeats
1865 - 1939
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
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 been a
glimmering girl
With apple blossoms
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,
I will find out
where she has gone,
And kiss her lips
and take her hands;
And walk among the
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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