Witch-pale ice woman
Crazed by summer thaws
Her eyes speak
In lightning tongues
And spells of ancient mysteries.
A spinisterhood of sterility;
The death of apple blossoms
And a pendant moon
Light her cheeks,
Finger-woven in filigreed traces.
Man’s legends speak always of her:
Circe, Minerva, Nimuë, the Lady in White;
But they say nothing,
Ensorcelled by desire.