Winter was settling in at the hedges,
Whiting the meadows and hanging off ledges,
Crazing at windows and frosting the willow,
Creeping at ceilings and freezing my pillow,
Outside the woods were embraced in a tangle,
Snow falling steadily, stars were a-spangle.
I felt it time to be wandering steadily
Out where my footsteps had followed hers, readily,
Past where the pathway encircled the wishing well
Holding the pennies we’d tossed for a lovers spell,
She’d walked ahead with a bow in her auburn hair
One yellow ribbon, that’s how I remembered her.
She’d seemed uncertain and wanted to talk to me
I really didn’t, but she said to ‘walk with me’,
Down through the woods where the leaves lay in Autumn,
Yellow and golden, the grounds of Bell Norton,
Once was a convent and practiced religiously
Then we were deep in the woods by a poplar tree.
She turned and spoke of the thing I was fearing,
Took off her ring and the pearl in her earring,
‘I am in love with another,’ she said to me,
‘What of our love?’ then she said, ‘That is dead to me!’
‘You must allow me to love Justin Hanger,’
I felt cold rage and I lashed out in anger.
She fell pole-axed at the foot of a chestnut tree
Never a sign of the life that had once loved me,
Dragged her some distance and into the Folly,
Covered in creepers and mistletoe, holly,
Buried her under a floor that was rotten,
And left her in store so that she’d be forgotten.
Now it was months and I came back to see her
Deep in the winter, with weather so drear,
Opened the flimsy old door of the Folly,
Caught up in creepers and mistletoe, holly,
When from the floor came a sound like a groaning,
Under the boards was a weeping and moaning.
‘This can’t be true,’ as I came in and staggered,
Watched a hand rise through the floor, looking hagard,
Most of the flesh fell away from the bone,
Then the floor heaved and I heard the girl moan,
‘Where is my lover, the one that is true to me,’
‘You must be dead,’ I said, ‘all this is new to me.’
I took the axe that was stood in the corner
Raised it aloft as if I tried to warn her,
Then someone tackled and brought me to ground,
Muttering something, ‘At last she’s been found!’
And under the floor were her human remains,
No moaning or groaning, just my guilty pains.
David Lewis Paget