In the Old Man's House

A little bit of witchcraft...

The mad churl at the headstone,

The vane’s point, south,

The bright burn, the sad sin

At the carlin’s mouth.

The young field on the old day

By the age-old tarn,

The bloodstone by the highway

Where the wind breasts down;

Athame, set on a black cloth

By the five point star,

The cup brims, the dye sets

By the sharp hoar briar.

 

The thatch-rot at the damp wall

Of the dark stone hut,

The lampwick at the breastbone

Where the old man sat,

The sharp prick of the hoar briar

The thumb’s blood-spray,

The last flickering lamplight

Where the old shades play;

The long slash and the slow hush

At the breath’s death joust,

The wind shrieks at red rags

In the old man’s house.

 

David Lewis Paget