The Spell
‘We have the receipt of fern seed: we walk invisible.’
—HENRY IV
And we have met but twice or thrice!-
Three times enough to make me love!-
I praised your hair once; then your glove;
Your eyes; your gown;-you were like ice;
And yet this might suffice, my love,
And yet this might suffice.
St. John hath told me what to do:
To search and find the ferns that grow
The fern seed that the faeries know;
Then sprinkle fern seed in my shoe,
And haunt the steps of you, my dear,
And haunt the steps of you.
You’ll see the poppy pods dip here;
The blow-ball of the thistle slip,
And no wind breathing-but my lip
Next to your anxious cheek and ear,
To tell you I am near, my love,
To tell you I am near.
On wood—ways I shall tread your gown—
You’ll know it is no brier!-then
I’ll whisper words of love again,
And smile to see your quick face frown:
And then I’ll kiss it down, my dear,
And then I’ll kiss it down.
And when at home you read or knit,-
Who’ll know it was my hands that blotted
The page?-or all your needles knotted?
When in your rage you cry a bit:
And loud I laugh at it, my love,
And loud I laugh at it.
The secrets that you say in prayer
Right so I’ll hear: and, when you sing,
The name you speak; and whispering
I’ll bend and kiss your mouth and hair,
And tell you I am there, my dear,
And tell you I am there.
Would it were true what people say!-
Would I
could
find that elfin seed!
Then should I win your love, indeed,
By being near you night and day–
There is no other way, my love,
There is no other way.
Meantime the truth in this is said:
It is my soul that follows you;
It needs no fern seed in the shoe,-
While in the heart love pulses red,
To win you and to wed, my dear,
To win you and to wed.
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