WITCHCRAFT

This world is made a witchcraft place

With gazing on a woman's face.

Now‘ tis her smile, whose sorcery

Turns all my thoughts to melody.

Now‘ tis her frown, that comes and goes,

That makes my day a page of prose.

And now her laugh, or but a word,

That in my heart frees wild a bird.

Some day, perhaps, a kiss of hers,

Will lift from my dumb life the curse

Of longing, inarticulate,

That keeps me sad and celibate.