Mix foul night air with piercing torch and there
to follow brown marks leading you to dare
three witches who will fix you with their stare....
Your journey starts with curious cluster: three
brown marks, dun colored wait upon a tree.
Take heed the wee dun marks along the way
that draw you further further from the day.
When two dun marks aside you see arrayed
you must turn hard or else you go astray.
And when this turn you make from off the trail,
turn t'ward the higher glow or you shall fail
to hear the haggard sisters' mournful "Hail!"
And turn, and turn again two marks hard by...
The reeky coven's found, their treasure's nigh
when out of Birnam's Wood you sudden spy
three witches casting spells with fair-foul EYES!
With either courage strong or folly bold
the witches' treasure open and behold.
But linger not! The sisters start to mold
a secret spell to trap you in their hold:
"Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble."
Flee back to Birnam's path. They chase! 'Tis dire!
Foul eyes do change the leading marks to fire:
strange, orange glows urge you ahead: Retire!
Fly! Haste! or be engulfed, constrained in mire.
[Recall: turn t'ward that mark that's sitting higher.]
And when those midnight cries to echoes fade --
are swallowed far behind in forest shade;
regain the beach from whence you launched this raid.
Return clear thoughts and heart no more afraid.
In future days soft, safe, sun kissed and kind
do dwell upon this night and bring to mind
how once you feated hags to log a Find.
----
But, O --- perchance some distant night
you sense unease and taste familiar fright
as fog and whirling spirits steal your sight:
you see yourself perform unnat'ral rites.
Hark! Shock! You taste that spell of Birnam Wood
and feel the cold, encircling, cringing mud
creep 'round your limbs. Your heart's fear pounding thud
makes known the Sisters' chant deep in your blood:
"Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble."
Gasp, grasp! and heart-sunk woe; the forest rain
seeps down the cold mire 'round your reeling brain.
'Tis sure that ev'ry mem'ry has been stained
since that fell night of Birnam Wood's false gain:
You never left this hold so fraught with pain,
but languished, trapped under the Witches' bane!