Wednesday, January 26

Silver Apples of the Moon | Golden Apples of the Sun

My friend Leslie has been doing a feature called poetry week over on her blog. It's been fun to read the different poems from her and from her readers! I decided to share one of my favorite poems and thought it might be fun to post it here too. Just a brief change from my regular posting :-) I'll bold my favorite part of the poem, because it gives me the best imagery - it's like magic!  It's by a poet called WB Yeats who was an Ireland native like my kinsfolk! Enjoy!

The Song of Wandering Aengus

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 aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one 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 the long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

xo Shannon

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How lovely! I love to read your comments and I'll be sure to return the favor! I'm glad you're here! xo, S