The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter With an Introduction by George Meredith |
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THE YOUTH BEWITCHED |
 | The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter |  |
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THE YOUTH BEWITCHED
My fair-haired boy is sore bewitched,
He goes all full of grieving;
The web of gloom upon his brow
Is sure of fairy weaving.
He goes all full of grieving;
The web of gloom upon his brow
Is sure of fairy weaving.
His cheery laugh I never hear,
His voice is rough and chiding;
Upon his path some evil thing
Does watch him from its hiding.
His voice is rough and chiding;
Upon his path some evil thing
Does watch him from its hiding.
Ahone! Ahone! I bid him tell
If he has trod unknowing
Upon the fairy sleeping grass
Or cut the thorn a-growing.
If he has trod unknowing
Upon the fairy sleeping grass
Or cut the thorn a-growing.
He only turns his head away,
His words are bitter hearing;
But, ah! he cannot silence so
A mother's heart from fearing.
His words are bitter hearing;
But, ah! he cannot silence so
A mother's heart from fearing.
Last night I made a waxen shape
To bring the witch before me,
So she could take the sullen lad,
And my bright child restore me.
To bring the witch before me,
So she could take the sullen lad,
And my bright child restore me.
Nine pins I thrust within its side
To pierce her heart to dying,
And laid it on the glowing turf,
So listened for her crying.
To pierce her heart to dying,
And laid it on the glowing turf,
So listened for her crying.
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Soon pressed a hand upon the latch,
I feared the evil fairy;
But when I raised my frightened eyes
'Twas none but Dwyer's Mary.
I feared the evil fairy;
But when I raised my frightened eyes
'Twas none but Dwyer's Mary.
I told her of the boy bewitched,
She listened unbelieving;
And said she knew to-morrow's eve
Would free him of his grieving.
She listened unbelieving;
And said she knew to-morrow's eve
Would free him of his grieving.
She turned her blushing face aside,
Her voice was low and cheering;
But, ah! she cannot silence so
A mother's heart from fearing.
Her voice was low and cheering;
But, ah! she cannot silence so
A mother's heart from fearing.
| The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter | |