Monday, July 10, 2006

Editorial Illustration Assignment.


THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS

by: 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.


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