Classic Poem

Come, Red Mouse,
And come, Black Cat!
Oh, see what the goat
And the toad are at!
Oh, see them where
They rise in the air,
And wheel and dance
With the whirling bat!

We rise, we rise
On the smoking air;
And the withered breast
Grows young and fair;
And the eyes grow bright
With alluring light,
And the fierce mouth softens
With love's soft prayer.

Come, White Sisters,
Naked of limb!
The horned moon reddens;
The stars grow dim;
The crags in the gloom
Of our caldron's fume
Shudder and topple
And reel and swim.

We mount, we mount
Till the moon seems nigh.
Our rout possesses
The middle sky.
With strange embraces,
And maddened faces,
And streaming tresses,
We twist and fly.

Come, White Sisters,
And four-foot kin,
For the horned moon sinks
And the reek grows thin,
And brief is the night
Of our delight,
And brief the span
Of our secret sin.