To the woods, to the woods is the wizard gone; <br />In his grotto the maiden sits alone. <br />She gazes up with a weary smile <br />At the rafter-hanging crocodile, <br />The slowly swinging crocodile. <br />Scorn has she of her master’s gear, <br />Cauldron, alembic, crystal sphere, <br />Phial, philtre—“Fiddlededee <br />For all such trumpery trash!” quo’ she. <br />“A soldier is the lad for me; <br />Hey and hither, my lad! <br /> <br />“Oh, here have I ever lain forlorn: <br />My father died ere I was born, <br />Mother was by a wizard wed, <br />And oft I wish I had died instead— <br />Often I wish I were long time dead. <br />But, delving deep in my master’s lore, <br />I have won of magic power such store <br />I can turn a skull—oh, fiddlededee <br />For all this curious craft!” quo’ she. <br />“A soldier is the lad for me; <br />Hey and hither, my lad! <br /> <br />“To bring my brave boy unto my arms, <br />What need have I of magic charms— <br />‘Abracadabra!’ and ‘Prestopuff’? <br />I have but to wish, and that is enough. <br />The charms are vain, one wish is enough. <br />My master pledged my hand to a wizard; <br />Transformed would I be to toad or lizard <br />If e’er he guessed—but fiddlededee <br />For a black-browed sorcerer, now,” quo’ she. <br />“Let Cupid smile and the fiend must flee; <br />Hey and hither, my lad.”<br /><br />Robert Graves<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-and-black-magic/
