She rested her old eyes

From the lantern-fruited yew trees,

And the scarlet of the skies;

And out the dead came stumbling,

From every rift and crack,

Silent as moss, and plundered

The gaping pack.

[Pg 50]

They wish them, three times over,

Away they skip full soon:

Bat and Mole and Leveret,

Under the rising moon;

Owl and Newt and Nightjar:

They take their shapes and creep,

Silent as churchyard lichen,

While she squats asleep.

All of these dead were stirring:

Each unto each did call,

'A Witch, a Witch is sleeping

Under the churchyard wall;

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