It’s two versions to the story
In mine a bone poke through chipped bars
The witch sighed, “You not growin’ very large”
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It’s two versions to the story
In mine a bone poke through chipped bars
The witch sighed, “You not growin’ very large”
“Ah! red-leafed time hath driven out the rose
And crimson dew is fallen on the leaf
Ere ever yet the cold white wheat be sown
That hideth all earth’s green and sere and red;
The Moon-flower’s fallen and the branch is bare,
Holding no honey for the starry bees;
The Maiden turns to her dark lord’s demesne.”
Ezra Pound | “Canzon: The Yearly Slain”