I went into the hazel wood
Because a fire was in my head
And cut and peeled a hazel wand
And tied a berry to a thread
And when white moths were on the wing
And moth-like stars were flickering out
I threw the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout
And when I laid it on the ground
And gone to blow the fire aflame
Then 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 vanished in the brightening air
Though I am old from wandering
In quiet lands and hilly lands
I will find out where she has gone
And know her mouth and take her hands
And walk along green dappled gra**
And pluck till time and time is done
The silver apples of the moon
The golden apples of the sun