Silver Apples, W.B. Yeats, 10 inch size in dupion

  • Silver Apples, W.B. Yeats, 10 inch size in dupion
  • Silver Apples, W.B. Yeats, 10 inch size in dupion
  • Silver Apples, W.B. Yeats, 10 inch size in dupion
  • Silver Apples, W.B. Yeats, 10 inch size in dupion
  • Silver Apples, W.B. Yeats, 10 inch size in dupion
  • Silver Apples, W.B. Yeats, 10 inch size in dupion
  • Silver Apples, W.B. Yeats, 10 inch size in dupion

$79.00


Inspired by the poem, The Song of Wandering Aengus, by W. B Yeats, this is a beautiful Celtic print that makes for a very striking bag. This is a quirky and stylish piece that will add a unique touch to anything from jeans to an evening dress.

We try to keep these popular bags in stock, but at busy times we may need to make your bag to order for you. This takes 2-3 weeks. If you need your bag urgently, please contact us to ask if it's in stock.

  • 10" frame (25 cm). Width at the bottom is 11.5" (29 cm). These are large and show-stopping bags.
  • Unique print front and back, designed by us.
  • Printed on a very good quality Japanese dupion.
  • Lined in a satin print designed specially and unique to us — a really gorgeous interior.
  • Features Baba Studio "special edition" label inside.
  • One zipped inner pocket for safe-keeping of valuables.
  • Frame with folding loops to convert into shoulder strap, and a plain black webbing strap that's fully adjustable to be worn shoulder style or messenger style.
  • We try to keep these popular bags in stock, but at busy times we may need to make your bag to order for you. This takes 2-3 weeks. If you need your bag urgently, please contact us to ask if it's in stock.
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    The Song of Wandering Aengus

    W. B. Yeats, 1865 - 1939
    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.

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