At dusk the doppelwälker

through looking glass does tread,

Then smiling, wan, with face half gone

nods passage of the dead.



With milk glass fixed upon the skies

Our sister shifts through endless gloom

And leaving lowlands where the lie, she leaps!

From reeds

to flames

to die in cinders,

burnt upon the moon.



Monday's child on swift approach, a monster on the mount,

Sees Sunday's child turned lachrymose, a maudlin song abounds

Then ram

Then crow

Then cat did spy, and in a flash did flee

While bairn – now yoked with mother's tail – escaped into the sea.