A less than Whackadoodle Song because a friend might need it.
If we give up searching because of the fire in our heads, we will never find our golden apples of the moon, or silver apples of the sun.
One day in the 1960’s, a beloved Scottish troubadour named Donovan sang a memorable song. He used a poem written by Willian Butler Yeats in 1897 as his lyrics and inspiration. It was a collaboration nearly one hundred years in the making.
If we give up searching, we will never find our golden apples of the moon, or silver apples of the sun.
The Song of Wandering Aengus Poem by William Butler Yeats (Written in 1897) Music and performance by Donovan (born Donovan Phillips Leitch 10 May 1946 and still alive.) 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.