There are three witches in the wood:
One wanders in a ghoulish habit,
One is a tree that oozes blood,
And one’s a rabbit.
Sudden and gloomy is the ghoul:
I nod to her, she can’t alarm me–
A gruesome, ceremonious fool–
She’ll never harm me.
I often read beneath the tree;
I think she knows that all her groaning
And dripping wounds are lost on me:
I mock her moaning.
One thing can make my belly thump,
One fascination terrifies me:
Suddenly, from a ferny clump,
The rabbit eyes me.
From: Campbell, Archibald Young, Poems, 1912, W. Heffer & Sons Ltd: Cambridge, pp. 12-13.
(https://archive.org/stream/poemscampbellarc00camp#page/12/mode/2up)
Date: 1912
By: Archibald Young Campbell (1885-1958)