Witches On The Heath

Euchins, world the three under a wild and cloud-swept sky, while a goblin moon rode high over the hill where the old stones lie, and their hats were peaked, and they twitted in squeaked as they danced in the green moonlight. And out of the boughs of the twisted thorn came the wail of a violin,

queer and e-veal and sad and thin, and though there was nobody one could see, Somebody played in the twisted tree, Queer Sad Tunes for the witches three, Till a lost wind crept from the hills and wept, and the farm cocks coiled up.