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When You Are Old: Early Poems, Plays, and Fairy Tales by
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clocloabricot
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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 alone long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon
The golden apples of the sun.
(Last bit of The Song of Wandering Aengus)
— Aug 02, 2024 08:12AM
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Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk alone long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon
The golden apples of the sun.
(Last bit of The Song of Wandering Aengus)
