Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/73

“Come back,” I cried, “you witch's child,
Come bade and answer me”;
But no maid on the mountain-side
Could ever my eyes see.

I looked into the glowing east,
I looked into the south,
But did not see the slim young witch,
With crimson on her mouth.

Now, though I looked both well and long,
And saw no woman there,
Out from the bushes by my side
There crept a snow-white hare.

With knife in hand I followed it
By ditch, by bog, by hill:
I said, “Your luck be in your feet.
For I shall do you ill.”

I said, “Come, be you fox or hare.
Or be you mountain maid,
I'll cut the witch's heart from you,
For mischief you have made.”

She laid her spells upon my path,
The brambles held and tore,
The pebbles slipped beneath my feet,
The briars wounded sore.

And then she vanished from my eyes
Beside M'Cormac's farm,
I ran to catch her in the house
And keep the man from harm.

She stood with him beside the fire,
And when she saw my knife.
She flung herself upon his breast
And prayed he'd save her life.