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
When 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 sunTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
