About the poet
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) stands at the turning point between the Victorian period and...
The Song of Wandering Aengus
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.
Sponsor this poem
Would you like to sponsor this poem? Find out how here.