By Underwood & Underwood — Publisher [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

‘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.’—W.B. Yeats

flying white moths

another starry night without

that wandering girl

who caught me when I caught her

and refuses to let me go

for Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-five