SEVEN MAGPIES"Seven magpies for a witch."—Lancashire proverb.
Seven magpies have I found in between the barley sheaves,
Seven magpies like a shadow crossed the poplar's yellow leaves,
Seven magpies in the hollow where the brambles crowd the leas,
Knitting with their thorny fingers olive stockings for the trees;
Seven magpies—was I dreaming, drugged with spice of afternoon,
When I saw their black wings flitting o'er the golden harvest moon?
And a ghostly light was playing in the stubble here and there,
While the glistening grain-stooks quivered to the gambollings of a hare!
Seven magpies like a shadow crossed the poplar's yellow leaves,
Seven magpies in the hollow where the brambles crowd the leas,
Knitting with their thorny fingers olive stockings for the trees;
Seven magpies—was I dreaming, drugged with spice of afternoon,
When I saw their black wings flitting o'er the golden harvest moon?
And a ghostly light was playing in the stubble here and there,
While the glistening grain-stooks quivered to the gambollings of a hare!
When the grass was wet this morning with the weavings of the dew,
From the glade among the oak-trees seven birds across it flew!
Now I find the secret pathway lifted to the larch-ringed hill,
Winding like a dappled ribbon—and the wings are with me still!
From the glade among the oak-trees seven birds across it flew!
Now I find the secret pathway lifted to the larch-ringed hill,
Winding like a dappled ribbon—and the wings are with me still!
