I was playing with my hoop along the road <br />Just where the bushes are, when, suddenly, <br />There came a shout, -- I ran away and stowed <br />Myself beneath a bush, and watched to see <br />What made the noise, and then, around the bend, <br />I saw a woman running. She was old <br />And wrinkle-faced, and had big teeth. -- The end <br />Of her red shawl caught on a bush and rolled <br />Right off her, and her hair fell down. Her face <br />Was awful white, and both her eyes looked sick, <br />And she was talking queer. 'O God of Grace!' <br />Said she, 'where is the child?' and flew back quick <br />The way she came, and screamed, and shook her hands; <br />. . . Maybe she was a witch from foreign lands.<br /><br />James Brunton Stephens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-turn-of-the-road-3/
