Out of the night when the werewolf cries
By the bole of the old Witch’s’ Tree
The dark stars shimmer, begin to rise,
The moon’s face there in the dead lake lies
Like some ship in a dark shallow sea.
And here the shimmering stars soon jell
Like the pale froth on new white-capped waves,
Here Sirens come out to strut and sell
Such love as will lead you onto hell
And fast into a moldering grave.
There on the hills where the shadows be,
That fast race when the wan moon is done,
Comes the far crash of a haunted sea
That echoes on through the weed filled lea
Where the vampires shamble and run.
Out of the night when the werewolf cries
By the bole of the old Witch’s’ Tree
The dark stars shimmer, begin to rise,
The moon’s face there in the dead lake lies
Like some ship in a dark shallow sea.
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Submission Name: The Witch's Tree
