11:00pm: W.B. Yeats-Gone But Not Forgotten
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 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 till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
1897, William Butler Yeats
From The Wind Among The Reeds (1899)
When we were young and caught a glimpse of something secretive and magical. It revealed itself only momentarily, it was a fleeting glimpse, and then was gone; but how we remember, to the finest detail. How we loved it, and long for it still.
(And to that I was reminded of this great piece in an "Enterprise" episode this very night: a worthy enterprise indeed.)
Posted by cronish at March 21, 2002 02:37 PM