Poems of Madison Cawein Vol. 4 — Will-o'-the-Wisp

I

There in the calamus he stands With frog-webbed feet and bat-winged hands;

His glow-worm garb glints goblin-wise;

And elfishly, and impishly, Above the gleam of owlet eyes, A death's-head cap of downy dyes Nods out at me, and beckons me.

II

Now in the reeds his face looks white As witch-down on a witches' night;

Now through the dark, old, haunted mill, All eerily, all flickeringly He flits; and with a whippoorwill Mouth calls, and seems to syllable, "Come follow me!

oh, follow me!"

III

Now o'er the sluggish stream he wends, A slim light at his fingers' ends;

The spotted spawn, the toad hath clomb, Slips oozily, sucks slimily;

His easy footsteps seem to come-- Like bubble-gaspings of the scum-- This side of me; that side of me.

IV

There by the stagnant pool he stands, A foxfire lamp in flickering hands;

The weeds are slimy to the tread, And mockingly, and gloatingly, With slanted eyes and pointed head, He leans above a face long dead,-- The face of me!

of me!

of me!