A fair witch crept to a young man's side, And he kissed her and took her for his bride. But a shape came in at the dead of night, And filled the room with snowy light. And he saw how in his arms there lay A thing more frightful than words may say. And he rose in haste, and followed the Shape Till morning crowned an eastern cape. And he girded himself, and followed still When sunset painted the western hill. But, mocking and thwarting, clung to his side, Weary day! the foul Witch-Bride. |