Witch Dance

Between the windy, swirling fire And all the stillness of the moon, Sweet witch, you danced at my desire, Turning some weird and lovely rune To paces like the swirling fire. As in the Sabbat's ancient round With strange and subtle steps you went; And toward the heavens and toward the ground Your steeple-shapen hat was bent As in the Sabbat's ancient round. Upon the earth your paces wrought A circle such as magians made... And still some hidden thing you sought With hands desirous, half afraid, Beyond the ring your paces wrought. Your supple youth and loveliness A glamor left upon the air: Whether to curse, whether to bless, You wrought a stronger magic there With your lithe youth and loveliness. Your fingers, on the smoke and flame, Moved in the mysterious conjuring; You seemed to call a silent Name, And lifted like an outstretched wing Your somber gown against the flame. What darkling and demonian Lord, In fear or triumph, did you call? Ah! was it then that you implored, With secret signs equivocal, The coming of the covens' Lord? Sweet witch you conjured forth my heart To answer always at your will! Like Merlin, in some place apart, It lies enthralled and captive still: Sweet witch, you conjured thus my heart!