THE THREE WITCHES

The Database of Ornament

                        ALL the moon-shed nights are over,
                           And the days of gray and dun,
                        There is neither may nor clover,
                           And the day and night are one.

                        Not a hamlet, not a city,
                           Meets our strained and tearless eyes,
                        In the plain without a pity,
                           Where the wan grass droops and dies.

                        We shall wander through the meaning
                           Of a day and see no light,
                        For our lichened arms are leaning
                           On the ends of endless night.

                        We the children of Astarte,
                           Dear abortions of the Moon,
                        In a gay and silent party
                           We are riding to you soon :

                        Burning ramparts, ever burning !
                           To the flame which never dies,
                        We are yearning, yearning, yearning,
                           With our gay and tearless eyes ;

                         In the plain without a pity
                        (Not a hamlet, not a city)
                           Where the wan grass droops and dies.

                                                                           ERNEST DOWSON.