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 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 … (read more)
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 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 floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
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.
~Yeats
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Comments
Beautiful
Thank you 😊
Wow. Great work my dear friend !
Thank you 😊
Idea and work are fantastic!!!
Thanks Nadiia!!
Awesome as always, Indrani)))
Thank you Gera :)
great work for a great poem.
Thank you Ade. :)
E .. since I could not find you on twitter - leaving a message here to thank you for your support 🙏. I am glad you like it :).
love your work, I am thank you 🙏