• 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,
    A moth-like stars were flicheing out,
    I dropped the berry in a stream
    And caught a silver trout.

    When I laid it on the floor
    I turned to blow the fire a flame,
    But something rustled on the floor,
    And someone called me by my name:
    It had become a glimmering girl
    With apple blossoms in her hair.
    Who called me by my name and ran
    And fadded away through the brightening air.

    Though I am old with wanderings
    Through hallow lands and hilly 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 time are done
    The silver apples of the moon,
    The golden apples of the sun.