Love And Black Magic See all items with this value

To the woods, to the woods is the wizard gone;
In his grotto the maiden sits alone.
She gazes up with a weary smile
At the rafter-hanging crocodile,
The slowly swinging crocodile.
Scorn has she of her master's gear,
Cauldron, alembic, crystal sphere,
Phial, philtre---'Fiddlededee
For all such trumpery trash!' quo' she.
'A soldier is the lad for me;
Hey and hither, my lad!
'Oh, here have I ever lain forlorn:
My father died ere I was born,
Mother was by a wizard wed,
And oft I wish I had died instead---
Often I wish I were long time dead.
But, delving deep in my master's lore,
I have won of magic power such store
I can turn a skull---oh, fiddlededee
For all this curious craft!' quo' she.
'A soldier is the lad for me;
Hey and hither, my lad!
'To bring my brave boy unto my arms,
What need have I of magic charms---
""Abracadabra!"" and ""Prestopuff""?
I have but to wish, and that is enough.
The charms are vain, one wish is enough.
My master pledged my hand to a wizard;
Transformed would I be to toad or lizard
If e'er he guessed---but fiddlededee
For a black-browed sorcerer, now,' quo' she.
'Let Cupid smile and the fiend must flee;
Hey and hither, my lad.'

3435.txt

Graves, Robert (1895-1985) See all items with this value

(1995, 1997, 1999)

1997-01-01

1999-12-31

Poem

The First World War Poetry Digital Archive

3435.txt