Poetry Performed Episode 024 - The Witch by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge



Episode 024 - The Witch by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
The middle of March can be a tough time for many people as we sit in the midst of a change of seasons. Hopefully, a little poetry can bring some brightness to what may be a gray day wherever you are. This week, we’ve got “The Witch” by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge.

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The Witch by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

I have walked a great while over the snow,
And I am not tall nor strong.
My clothes are wet, and my teeth are set,
And the way was hard and long.
I have wandered over the fruitful earth,
But I never came here before.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!

The cutting wind is a cruel foe.
I dare not stand in the blast.
My hands are stone, and my voice a groan,
And the worst of death is past.
I am but a little maiden still,
My little white feet are sore.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!

Her voice was the voice that women have,
Who plead for their heart’s desire.
She came—she came—and the quivering flame
Sunk and died in the fire.
It never was lit again on my hearth
Since I hurried across the floor,
To lift her over the threshold, and let her in at the door.

That was The Witch by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge. Best known during her day as a novelist and essayist, now she is best known for her poetry. She once published five novels in a thirteen year stretch, and was a highly active writer throughout her life. The great-grand-neice of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, the romantic poet, Mary Elizabeth Coleridge died in 1907.

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