Here you will find the Poem The Old Witch in the Copse of poet Barry Cornwall
I am a Witch, and a kind old Witch, There's many a one knows that-- Alone I live in my little dark house With Pillycock, my cat. A girl came running through the night, When all the winds blew free:-- "O mother, change a young man's heart That will not look on me. O mother, brew a magic mead To stir his heart so cold." "Just as you will, my dear," said I; "And I thank you for your gold." So here am I in the wattled copse Where all the twigs are brown, To find what I need to brew my mead As the dark of night comes down. Primroses in my old hands, Sweet to smell and young, And violets blue that spring in the grass Wherever the larks have sung. With celandines as heavenly crowns Yellowy-gold and bright; All of these, O all of these, Shall bring her Love's delight. But orchids growing snakey green Speckled dark with blood, And fallen leaves that curled and shrank And rotted in the mud, With blistering nettles burning harsh And blinding thorns above; All of these, O all of these Shall bring the pains of Love. Shall bring the pains of Love, my Puss, That cease not night or day, The bitter rage, nought can assuage Till it bleeds the heart away. Pillycock mine, my hands are full My pot is on the fire. Purr, my pet, this fool shall get Her fool's desire.