Explore "Willow's Forge" by Sheila Kaye-Smith on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I've crossed the fields from Lattenden / And haunted Honey Mill, / My feet and all my clothes are torn. / Yet on I stumble still -- / I must not stay to speak to you / Or falter with my pain, / But hasten on to Willow's Forge, / At the bottom of the lane.
Folk call me mad -- perhaps 'tis true -- / My life is full of fears, / At whiles I bite my arms, and then / I wash the blood with tears. / I scream, I talk to owls and crows, / Hear voices from the sky, / I see the spooks that ride o' nights -- / Men shudder when I'm nigh.