Explore "The Fen-Fire" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The misty rain makes dim my face, / The night's black cloak is o'er me; / I tread the dripping cypress-place, / A flickering light before me.
Out of the death of leaves that rot / And ooze and weedy water, / My form was breathed to haunt this spot, / Death's immaterial daughter.
The owl that whoops upon the yew, / The snake that lairs within it, / Have seen my wild face flashing blue / For one fantastic minute.
But should you follow where my eyes / Like some pale lamp decoy you, / Beware! lest suddenly I rise / With love that shall destroy you.