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 aflame,
but something rustled on the floor,
and some one 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.

-w.b. yeats