Benjamin Fox
Beyond my garden sat a wood
So shrouded thick in mist.
And in there happens nothing good
The townsfolk all insist.
Within that forest witches haunt,
And gather in the dim.
Beneath the pale moon bright and gaunt,
Above the grasping limbs.
Where shadows dance ‘round hellish fires,
Pray that you will not see
Their hexèd sacrificial pyres
Or hear their blasphemy.
Nor that dread tune that chills the heart,
And sends birds to the sky.
For any man who will not dart,
Is braver a man than I.
She spoke to me beside the brook,
Emerging from the trees.
Into her eyes I dared not look,
Brought shaken to my knees.
She bade me rise and follow near,
She’d show me splendor fair.
Bewitched I was, I felt no fear,
So thoroughly ensnared.
She told me lies and cruelties sweet,
As sun began to shine.
Of all the earthly joys I’d meet
For spurning the divine.
Heaven has fletched and loosed those doubts
That darken rising sun.
I wish that I had been without,
Now that my life is done.