I WENT out to the
hazel wood,
Because a fire was
in my head,
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,
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 through
long green 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
With Love,
from Daniel.