I Went Out To The Hazelwood

Because A Fire Was In My Head

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 Ground

And Gone To Blow The Fire Aflame

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 Vanished In The Brightening Air



Though I Am Old With Wandering

Through Hollow Lands And Hilly Lands

I Will Find Out Where She Has Gone

And See Her Lips And Take Her Hand



And Walk Through Long Green Dappled Grass

And Pluck Till Time And Times Are Done

The Silver Apples Of The Moon

The Golden Apples Of The Sun