<h3> <SPAN name="witch"></SPAN> THE OLD WITCH IN THE COPSE<br/> </h3>
<p>I am a Witch, and a kind old Witch,<br/>
There's many a one knows that—<br/>
Alone I live in my little dark house<br/>
With Pillycock, my cat.<br/></p>
<p>A girl came running through the night,<br/>
When all the winds blew free:—<br/>
"O mother, change a young man's heart<br/>
That will not look on me.<br/></p>
<p>O mother, brew a magic mead<br/>
To stir his heart so cold."<br/>
"Just as you will, my dear," said I,<br/>
"And I thank you for your gold."<br/></p>
<p>So here am I in the wattled copse<br/>
Where all the twigs are brown,<br/>
To find what I need to brew my mead<br/>
As the dark of night comes down.<br/></p>
<p>Primroses in my old hands,<br/>
Sweet to smell and young,<br/>
And violets blue that spring in the grass<br/>
Wherever the larks have sung.<br/></p>
<p>With celandines as heavenly crowns<br/>
Yellowy-gold and bright;<br/>
All of these, O all of these,<br/>
Shall bring her Love's delight.<br/></p>
<p>But orchids growing snakey green<br/>
Speckled dark with blood,<br/>
And fallen leaves that curled and shrank<br/>
And rotted in the mud,<br/></p>
<p>With blistering nettles burning harsh<br/>
And blinding thorns above;<br/>
All of these, O all of these<br/>
Shall bring the pains of Love.<br/></p>
<p>Shall bring the pains of Love, my Puss,<br/>
That cease not night or day,<br/>
The bitter rage, nought can assuage<br/>
Till it bleeds the heart away.<br/></p>
<p>Pillycock mine, my hands are full,<br/>
My pot is on the fire.<br/>
Purr, my pet, this fool shall get<br/>
Her fool's desire.<br/></p>
<p><br/><br/><br/></p>
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