Thomas Hutchinson

CHORUS OF WITCHES:The stubble is yellow, the corn is green,Now to the Brocken the witches go;The mighty multitude here may be seenGathering, wizard and witch, below.Sir Urian is sitting aloft in the air; _150Hey over stock! and hey over stone!'Twixt witches and incubi, what shall be done?Tell it who dare! tell it who dare! NOTE: _150 Urian]Urean editions 1824, 1839. A VOICE:Upon a sow-swine, whose... more...

PART 1. A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew,And the young winds fed it with silver dew,And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light.And closed them beneath the kisses of Night. And the Spring arose on the garden fair, _5Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breastRose from the dreams of its wintry rest. But none ever trembled and panted with blissIn the... more...

22.My brain began to fail when the fourth mornBurst o'er the golden isles—a fearful sleep,Which through the caverns dreary and forlornOf the riven soul, sent its foul dreams to sweep _1300With whirlwind swiftness—a fall far and deep,—A gulf, a void, a sense of senselessness—These things dwelt in me, even as shadows keepTheir watch in some dim charnel's loneliness,A shoreless sea, a... more...