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