Are wells of wisdom; fugitive, astray
From a blue land that dreams beyond the skies.
’Tis done. I lay young Summer on her pyre,
And turning, burn thro’ distance to the day
That brings me to the lips of my desire.
THE WITCH
Whence came the fire in her eyes, eyes of a beast in the jungle,
Desperate, golden and green, wild as a river in spate?
Her long lithe limbs were brown, and she took the world as a leopard,