He conjured me a girl who was apart
From other females known to living men,
With moondust and lost spells and some cayenne,
And placed a stone where should have been her heart.
Now all her seeming artlessness was art,
Her loveliness far past all human ken.
I gave to her the name of Madelaine,
A thing I’d purchased from a wizard’s mart.
I kept her in my castle to conceal
This wicked thing I’d done beyond the law:
I’d bought a woman beautiful, ideal
Whose soul was ice no flaming Sun might thaw.
Though I am grey and old I yet believe
No spells are spun like those that she can weave!