misslynx: (Brigid's cross)
[personal profile] misslynx
For the 6th Annual Brigid Poetry Festival:

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.

Date: 2011-02-03 04:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lgbtech.livejournal.com
That's beautiful, and for some reason it's made me miss you even more than usual.

Date: 2011-02-03 09:42 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kristin86.livejournal.com
Long-time lurker here (not in your personal journal but the communities) and I have to first say that you have always given some of the best advice and i've long admired you.

Nice choice in poems. I was a little disappointed, I had overtime at work this week and haven't had my day off yet, I was wanting to write a poem for Brigid. Happy late Imbolc, by the way. I'm thinking i'm still going to do it and a small ritual a couple days from now. I've never been a stickler for having to celebrate at exactly the precise times; although I do prefer it. The energy of the season is still present, and that's what it's about for me anyway.


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April 2011

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