THE SPELL
At eve last Midsummer, no sleep I sought,
But to the field a bag of Hempseed brought;
I scattered round the seed on every side,
And three times in a trembling accent cried:
“This Hempseed with my virgin hand I sow,
Who shall my True-love be, the crop shall mow!”
I straight looked back, and if my eyes speak truth,
With his keen scythe behind me came the youth!
With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice, around, around, around!
Last May-day Fair, I searched to find a Snail,
That might my secret Lover’s name reveal.
Two Hazel-nuts I threw into the flame,
And to each nut I gave a sweetheart’s name.
This with the loudest bounce me sore amazed,
That in a flame of brightest colour blazed.
With my sharp heel, I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice, around, around, around!
This mellow Pippin which I pare around,
My Shepherd’s name shall flourish on the ground.
I fling the unbroken paring o’er my head,
Upon the grass a perfect L is read.
Yet on my heart a fairer L is seen
Than what the paring marks upon the green.
With my sharp heel, I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice, around, around, around!
John Gay. (Condensed)