"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
29th Nov 2011✧08:501 note
 
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Opaque  by  andbamnan