The Witch/The Coquette [DE LA MARE poems set to music]
Channel: tobydarling
Date: 21/02/2022

The Witch    By Walter De La Mare 

Am A* Am Am9
Weary went the old Witch
Em
        Weary of her pack,
F Am7 Em
     She sat her down by the churchyard wall,
Am7
        And jerked it off her back.

     The cord brake, yes, the cord brake,
        Just where the dead did lie,
     And Charms and Spells and Sorceries
        Spilled out beneath the sky.

Bb C B7
Weary was the old Witch;
Em Am
        She rested her old eyes
B7 C G Dm G
     From the lantern-fruited yew trees,
Am7
        And the scarlet of the skies;

     And out the dead came stumbling,
        From every rift and crack,
     Silent as moss, and plundered
        The gaping pack.

     They wish them, three times over,
        Away they skip full soon:
     Bat and Mole and Leveret,
        Under the rising moon;

     Owl and Newt and Nightjar:
        They take their shapes and creep,
     Silent as churchyard lichen,
        While she squats asleep.

     All of these dead were stirring:
        Each unto each did call,
     "A Witch, a Witch is sleeping
        Under the churchyard wall;

     "A Witch, a Witch is sleeping...."
        The shrillness ebbed away;
     And up the way-worn moon clomb bright,
        Hard on the track of day.

     She shone, high, wan and silvery;
        Day's colours paled and died:
     And, save the mute and creeping worm,
        Nought else was there beside.

     Names may be writ; and mounds rise;
        Purporting, Here be bones:
     But empty is that churchyard
        Of all save stones.

C#
Owl and Newt and Nightjar,
C
        Leveret, Bat and Mole
F F/E Dm7 Am7 
     Haunt and call in the twilight,
Dm
        Where she slept, poor soul.

Am A* Am Am9:  x0x55x x0x43x x0x21x x0x00x



The Coquette

A4 A
Yearn thou may'st:
Am D9
Thou shalt not see
Am7 D9
My wasting love
E7
For thee

Lean thy tresses;
Fair that fruit;
Slim as a warbling bird's
Thy throat

F Dm
Peep thou then:
Am G
Doubt not some swain
Am Dm
Will of thy still decoy
Am
Be fain.

But I? In sooth - 
Nay, gaze thy fill!
Scorn thee I must,
Am
And will.

A4: x0x030


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