Luyện nghe bài hát Golden Apples of the Sun

I went out to the
Because a was in my head
Cut and a hazel wand
And a berry to a thread

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

When I had it on the ground
And gone to blow the fire
Something rustled on the
And someone called me by my

It had become a glimmering
With apple in her hair
Who called me by my and ran
And vanished in the air

I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly
I will find out she has gone
And see her and take her hand

And walk through green dappled grass
And pluck till time and are done
The apples of the moon
The apples of the sun