William James Roe

“ Right where she stood in her smock and snood,—
Nothing alive but her thoughts alone,—
A marble image in Wonderwood.
So there she stayed in her robe of white,
Ne’er moving at all the livelong year,
Till full o’ the moon at dead o’ night
Next Hallow’s tide e’en the king drew near:
“Good Mistress Maggie,” he snarled and snapped,
You’ve had your wishes for Hallow’s tide,
I wish ye luck o’ the things that happed;
I ken ‘twere better at harne to hide. ”

“ Tartan and bonnet and snood and plaid,
Kirtle and claymore and brooch o' Lorn.
Hallow’s tide e’en, at twelve o’ the clock:
Who’ll hie to the wood to fetch the good
Or ill perchance our fates to unlock
For all o’ the year from Wonderwood? ”