The Witch

Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

 
I have walked a great while over the snow,
And I am not tall nor strong.
My clothes are wet, and my teeth are set,
And the way was hard and long.
I have wandered over the fruitful earth,
But I never came here before.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!
The cutting wind is a cruel foe.
I dare not stand in the blast.
My hands are stone, and my voice a groan,
And the worst of death is past.
I am but a little maiden still,
My little white feet are sore.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!
Her voice was the voice that women have,
Who plead for their heart's desire.
She came—she came—and the quivering flame
Sunk and died in the fire.
It never was lit again on my hearth
Since I hurried across the floor,
To lift her over the threshold, and let her in at the door.
 

Poems by This Author

"My True Love Hath My Heart and I Have His" by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
None ever was in love with me but grief.


Further Reading

Related Poems
The White Witch
by James Weldon Johnson
The Witch Has Told You a Story
by Ava Leavell Haymon
The Witch-Bride
by William Allingham
Witch-Wife
by Edna St. Vincent Millay