I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
(4) 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
(8) 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,
(12) 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
(16) 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,
(20) 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,
(24) The golden apples of the sun.
