I went down to the Hazelwood Because a fire was in my head I 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 put the berry in a stream And hooked a little silver trout When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire aflame 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 in 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 hold 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
apple, berry, moth, hooked, hazelwood