Markus Stock
I met a witch with amber eyes
Who slowly sang a scarlet rune
Shifting to an icy laughter
Like the laughter of the Moon
Red as a wanton's was her mouth
And fair the breast she bade me take
With a word that clove and clung
Burning like a furnace-flake
But from her bright and lifted bosom
When I touched it with my hand
Came the many-needled coldness
Of a glacier-taken land
And lo, the witch with eyes of amber
Vanished like a blown-out flame
Leaving but the lichen-eaten stone
That wore a blotted name
