per amica silentia lunae

or, across the ferny brae with the evil voodoo celt

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national poetry month- a little Yeats
dream
evcelt
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 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.

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A true master of his craft evoking magic.

There is an English Country tune called "Chestnut" found in Playford's English Dancing Mafter.

I used it to set this poem to music.
I'm hoping this year or next to get it recorded.

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