Luyện nghe bài hát Golden Apples of the Sun

I out to the hazelwood
a fire was in my head
Cut and a hazel wand
And hooked a to a thread

And when white moths on the wing
And moth-like were flickering out
I the berry in a stream
And a little silver trout

When I had laid it on the
And gone to the fire aflame
rustled on the floor
And someone called me by my

It had become a glimmering
With apple blossom in her
Who me by my name and ran
And in the brightening air

Though I am old wandering
Through hollow lands and lands
I will out where she has gone
And see her lips and take her

And through long green dappled grass
And pluck till time and times are
The apples of the moon
The golden of the sun