Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air, Thrice sit thou mute in this inchanted chair; And thrice three times tie up this true loves knot, And murmur soft, she will, or she will not. Go burn these pois'nous weeds in you blue fire, These screech-owl's feathers and this prickling briar; This cypress gathered at a dead man's grave; That all thy fears and cares an end may have. Then come, you Fairies, dance with me a round; Melt her hard heart with your melodious sound: In vain are all the charms I can devise: She hath an art to break them with her eyes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAPPER KAPLINSKI AT THE NORTH SIDE CUE CLUB by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE AWAKENING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE BLACK MAMMY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO GOD THE FATHER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD EARTH IS ENOUGH by EDWIN MARKHAM DEAR OLD DICK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |