The Song of Wandering Aengus-W.B. Yeats
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 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 long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
When I am too old to take myself fishing, Sophia, remember this day and take me with you when you go.
6 Comments:
I know she will.
What perfect pictures for a perfect
poem.
Every time I open a new entry and see how beautiful Sofia is I break out in a smile.
I can't wait until you get here. See you on the Island .Be safe.
I love you, Pop
You're such a sweet Daddy.
Son, this one is over the top. I can't stand it! How unbelievably adorable--precious, beautiful...
Isaac, you are such a beautiful writer. I strive to write like you one day. I am so excited to visit my Sophia over labor day weekend. Maybe we all can go fishing?
that's a great idea, tater.
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