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The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 1. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Narrative and legendary poems (search)
fishes swim to take their food From out her dainty hand. Meek as she sits in meeting-time, The godly minister Notes well the spell that doth compel The young men's eyes to her. The mole upon her dimpled chin Is Satan's seal and sign; Her lips are red with evil bread And stain of unblest wine. For Tituba, my Indian, saith At Quasycung she took The Black Man's godless sacrament And signed his dreadful book. Last night my sore-afflicted child Against the young witch cried. To take her Marshal Herrick rides Even now to Wenham side. “ The marshal in his saddle sat, His daughter at his knee; “I go to fetch that arrant witch, Thy fair playmate,” quoth he. “Her spectre walks the parsonage, And haunts both hall and stair; They know her by the great blue eyes And floating gold of hair.” “They lie, they lie, my father dear! No foul old witch is she, But sweet and good and crystal-pure As Wenham waters be.” “I tell thee, child, the Lord hath set Before us good and ill, An