A brew’r of hearts once offered me a phial,
Her fragile workings wrought with glass-tipped hands,
Brimming gold and glinting simmering smile;
It wafted cooling springs and lotuslands.
Her gentle fingers crushed our fateful flowers,
Enchanting them, and seven years surged back
In bottled blooms. Undo, O nightly hours!
You saw my tainted tongue poison it black.
But ere the deadly draught near stopped my heart,
A foggéd dream collects within my sight:
The far ’way face that Time has locked apart,
Her unblack tresses matching moonless height.
Hear, sweet witch, my soul’s lamenting plea
And fashion me the flask of saving remedy.
