SpotsOfTime

By SpotsOfTime

Pear

I'd forgotten how much I love pears - this was a particularly lovely one kindly given to me by my parents neighbours from their garden down in Norfolk and it has enjoyed a trip to Cumbria where it was happily munched today .... well, it might not have been so happy about it.
It reminded me W.B. Yeats's poem, The Song of Wandering Aengus, that G taught me to sing ....

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.

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