Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Witches' Song - Coatsworth


circa 1948
By Elizabeth Jane Coatsworth (1893-1986)

Early, early, comes the dark,
something moves along the ditches.
Was that singing? Hark, oh hark
to the chanting of the witches!

Come, sisters, come,
let us screech at the windows,
let us blow out the candles
and breathe on their hair,

we've shadowed the moon
and called up the night-wind,
the owl and the cat and the broom
will be there.

Let us turn their blood chill
with the sight of our faces,
let us touch them with fingers
both crooked and cold,

and then shrilly laughing
we'll be off to the hill tops
to frisk and to frolic
as always of old.

Did you hear them? Were they saying
scary things to shake the knees?
Or was that but breezes playing
in the dry and brittle trees?

© Elizabeth Jane Coatsworth

No comments:

Post a Comment