The Witch's Children.(Brief Article)(Poem)

 
THE WITCH'S CHILDREN 
 
   It's true we were the children of a witch, 
   And yet we loved her still, for bad or worse. 
   And even now, in hindsight, as we curse 
   The memory of the murderous old bitch, 
   We love that other shape she could assume 
   --The pale maiden sighing at her loom. 
 
   Oftentimes we'd huddle in our bed 
   And dream a shining hero of the hour 
   Who'd force the drawbridge, climb the topmost 
   tower, 
   And there strike off the villainess's head. 
   But then we'd wake in pity and alarm 
   To sob for having wished our mother harm. 
 
   Oftentimes we thought we'd run away. 
   Down we'd creep, whispering on the stair, 
   Across the moat, into the different ...