I went out to the hazel wood because a fire was in my head

And cut and pealed 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 'til time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon, the golden apples of the sun