The Hazelwood

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 When 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