niceOriginally posted by Tuatau:Nice. Kind of reminded me of another poem by W.B. Yeats:
"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."
-- Excerpt from "The Song of Wandering Aengus"