Lyrics: W.B. Yeats
Music: Chris Thompson
I went out to the hazel wood
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
Moth-like stars were flickering out
I dipped the berry into the stream
And caught a little silver trout
When I had laid it on the floor
I stepped to blow the fire a flame
But something rustled in the leaves
Something called me by my name
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom all in her hair
Who called on me by my name and ran
Ran and faded in the brightening air
Ah though I’m old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands
I will find out where she has gone
I’ll kiss her lips and I’ll take her hands
Yes, I will pluck until time
Times have done
The silver apples of the moon
The golden apples of the sun