The Wind Among the Reeds

“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.”

—W. B. Yeats, The Wind Among the Reeds

Tags: beautiful, nature, poem, poet, poetry, reeds, romantic, romanticism, the Wind among the Reeds, Yeats

This entry was posted on May 9, 2012 at 12:50 pm and is filed under Random. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.