Dora Sigerson Shorter ( )


The White Witch


Heaven help your home to-night,
MacCormac; for I know
A white witch woman is your bride:
You married for your woe.

You thought her but a simple maid
That roamed the mountain-side;
She put the witchs glance on you,
And so became your bride.

But I have watched her close and long
And know her all too well;
I never churned before her glance
But evil luck befell.

Last week the cow beneath my hand
Gave out no milk at all;
I turned, and saw the pale-haired girl
Lean laughing by the wall.

A little sup, she cried, for me;
The day is hot and dry.
Begone! I said, you witchs child,
She laughed a loud good-bye.

And when the butter in the churn
Will never rise, I see
Beside the door the white witch girl
Has got her eyes on me.

At dawn to-day I met her out
Upon the mountain-side,
And all her slender finger-tips
Were each a crimson dyed.

Now I had gone to seek a lamb
The darkness sent astray:
Sore for a lamb the dawning winds
And sharp-beaked birds of prey.

But when I saw the white witch maid
With blood upon her gown,
I said, Im poorer by a lamb;
The witch has dragged it down.

And Why is this, your hands so red
All in the early day?
I seized her by the shoulder fair,
She pulled herself away.

It is the raddle on my hands,
The raddle all so red,
For I have marked MacCormacs sheep
And little lambs, she said.

And what is this upon your mouth
And on your cheek so white?
Oh, it is but the berries stain;
She trembled in her fright.

I swear it is no berries stain,
Nor raddle all so red;
I laid my hands about her throat,
She shook me off, and fled.

I had not gone to follow her
A step upon the way,
When came I to my own lost lamb,
That dead and bloody lay.

Come back, I cried, you witchs child,
Come back and answer me:
But no maid on the mountain-side
Could ever my eyes see.

I looked into the glowing east,
I looked into the south,
But did not see the slim young witch,
With crimson on her mouth.

Now, though I looked both well and long,
And saw no woman there,
Out from the bushes by my side
There crept a snow-white hare.

With knife in hand, I followed it
By ditch, by bog, by hill;
I said, Your luck be in your feet,
For I shall do you ill.

I said, Come, be you fox or hare,
Or be you mountain maid,
Ill cut the witchs heart from you,
For mischief you have made.

She laid her spells upon my path,
The brambles held and tore,
The pebbles slipped beneath my feet,
The briars wounded sore.

And then she vanished from my eyes
Beside MacCormacs farm,
I ran to catch her in the house
And keep the man from harm.

She stood with him beside the fire,
And when she saw my knife,
She flung herself upon his breast
And prayed hed save her life.

The woman is a witch, I cried,
So cast her off from you;
Shell be my wife to-day, he said,
Be careful what you do!

The woman is a witch, I said;
He laughed both loud and long:
She laid her arms about his neck,
Her laugh was like a song.

The woman is a witch, he mocked,
And laughed both long and loud;
She bent her head upon his breast,
Her hair was like a cloud.

I said, See blood upon her mouth
And on each finger tip!
He said, I see a pretty maid,
A rose upon her lip.

He took her slender hand in his
To kiss the stain away
Oh, well she cast her spell on him,
What could I do but pray?

May heaven guard your house to-night!
I whisper as I go,
For you have won a witch for bride,
And married for your woe.



Dora Sigerson Shorter's other poems:
  1. Sixteen Dead Men
  2. A Vagrant Heart
  3. The Woman Who Went to Hell
  4. Cean Duv Deelish
  5. All-Souls' Night


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