The University of Michigan Library provides access to these materials for educational and research purposes. These materials are in the public domain in the United States. If you have questions about the collection please contact Digital Content & Collections at dlps-help@umich.edu, or if you have concerns about the inclusion of an item in this collection, please contact Library Information Technology at LibraryIT-info@umich.edu.
"New poems / by Madison Cawein [electronic text]." In the digital collection American Verse Project. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/BAH7936.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 2, 2024.
Pages
WITCHERY
SHE walks the woods, when evening falls,With spirits of the winds and leaves;And to her side the soul she callsOf every flower she perceives.
She walks with introspective eyesThat see not as the eyes of man,But with the dream that in them lies,And which no outward eyes may scan.
She sits among the sunset hills,Or trails a silken skirt of breeze,Then with the voice of whip-poor-willsSummons the twilight to the trees.
descriptionPage 61
Among the hollows, dim with musk,Where wild the stream shows heels of foam,She sows with firefly-seeds the dusk,And leads the booming beetle home.
She blows the glow-worm lamps a-glare,And hangs them by each way like eyes;Then, mid the blossoms, everywhereShe rocks to sleep the butterflies.
She calls the red fox from his den,And, hollowing to her mouth one hand,Halloos the owlets in the glen,And hoots awake the purple land.
The cricket knows her foot's light treadAnd sings for her an elfin mass;She puts the bumble-bee to bed,And shakes the white moth from the grass.
descriptionPage 62
And to the mud-wasps, where they topTheir cells of clay, she murmurs sleep:She bids the toad come forth and hop,The snail put out its horns and creep.
She taps upon the dead tree's trunk:And 'neath the bark the worm begins;And where the rotted wood is punkIts twinkling web the spider spins.
She claps a night-cap of the dewOn every rosy clover-head;And on the lily, pale of hue,She slips a gown while still in bed.
With kisses cool of drowsy mistShe thrills each wildflower's heart with June;And, whispering gold and amethyst,Sighs legends to them of the moon.
descriptionPage 63
She bids the black bat forth, to beThe courier of her darker moods;She mounts the moon-imp, Mystery,And speeds him wildly through the woods.
She crowds with ghosts the forest-walks;And with the wind's dim words invokesThe spirit that for ever talksUnto the congregated oaks.
She leans above the flying stream:Her starry gaze commands it stay:And in its lucid deeps a dreamTakes shape and glimmers on its way.
She rests upon the lichened stone,Her moonbeam hair spread bright around:And in the darkness, one by one,The unborn flowers break the ground.
descriptionPage 64
She lays her mouth, like some sweet word,Against the wild-bird's nest that swings:And in the speckled egg, that heard,The young bird stirs its wings and sings.
In her all dreams find permanence:All mysteries that trance the soul:And substance, that evades the sense,Through her wood-magic is made whole.
Oh, she is lovelier than she seemsTo any one whose soul may see:But only they who walk with dreamsShall meet with her and know 'tis she.
email
Do you have questions about this content? Need to report a problem?
Please contact us.