There really is a hazel wood

[kniteracy]

The Song of Wandering Aengus

	I went to the hazelwood WB Yeats never lived in Sligo. He visited here with relatives and spent summers here in his youth, and Sligo Town has a museum dedicated to his memory. It's funny how we mythologise those places of our youth, isn't it? There really is a hazel wood, surrounded by Lough Gill, the same lake where you'll find the Isle of Inishfree.
	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 aflame 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 along long dappled grass,
	And pluck till time and times are done
	The silver apples of the moon,
	The golden apples of the sun.