When Witches Dance in the Moon-light Expos’d
Enter a mystical realm as witches dance under moonlight in this haunting poem, exploring nature, mortality, and feminine presence.
Lilac blooming will not free my soul with [their] perfume strong, every leaf a sprig I break like a shy and hidden bird in [a] white and pink coffin. I would’st surely die! Amid the grass, amid the yellow-spear’d wheat, amid the flambeaus of the night in the old woods where stands the black-veil’d women.
Blossoms…
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