Golden Apples of the Sun

RC deWinter

Fairfield, United States

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*© 2010 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved

The Song of Wandering Aengus

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

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.

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, 1899 ~

Digital oil painting, finished with a very fine grunge-line texture, of Golden Delicious apples. Based on an original photograph shot April 30, 2010.*


25% of all sales of this picture will be donated to the Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation.

Artwork Comments

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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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