Golden Apples of the Sun

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 twelve white moths were on the wing

And moth-light 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 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

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