Three Walter de la Mare Songs

Weary went the old Witch,
Weary of her pack.
She sat her down by the churchyard wall. 
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.

Weary was the old Witch;
She rested her old eyes
From the lantern-fruited yew trees.
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 church, yard 
Of all save stones.

Owl and Newt and Nightjar,
Leveret, Bat, and Mole 
Haunt and call in the twilight 
Where she slept, poor soul

I heard a horseman
  Ride over the hill;
The moon shone clear,
  The night was still;
His helm was silver,
  And pale was he;
And the horse he rode
  Was of ivory.

Thousandz of thornz there be
On the Rozez where gozez
The Zebra of Zee:
Sleek, striped, and hairy,
The steed of the Fairy
Princess of Zee.

Heavy with blossomz be
The Rozez that growzez
In the thickets of Zee.
Where grazez the Zebra,
Marked Abracadeeebra,
Of the Princess of Zee.

And he nozez that poziez
Of the Rozez that grozez
So luvez'm and free,
With an eye, dark and wary,
In search of a Fairy,
Whose Rozez he knowzez
Were not honeyed for he,
But to breathe a sweet incense
To solace the Princess
Of far-away Zee.