Wandering Angus

I went out to the hazelwood

Because a fire was in my head

I 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 a berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout

When I had laid it on the floor

And went to blow the fire aflame

And something rustled on the floor

And something 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 with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands

I will find out where she has gone

And kiss 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

And the golden apples of the sun