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DM 129



Porte D'entrée


Christopher Cadra


Peter Cherches


Wortley Clutterbuck


Paul Compton


Mary Elizabeth Counselman



John M. Floyd


Nathaniel Hawthorne


Ronal Kayser


M.E. Proctor


Daniel A. Rabuzzi


Victor Rowan




Mary Elizabeth Counselman



They burned a witch in Bingham Square

Last Friday afternoon.

The faggot-smoke was blacker than

The shadows on the moon;


The licking flames were strangely green

Like fox-fire on the fen . . .

And she who cursed the godly folk

Will never curse again.


They burned a witch in Bingham Square

Before the village gate.

A huswife raised a skinny hand

To damn her, tense with hate.


A huckster threw a jagged stone—

Her pallid cheek ran red . . .

But there was something scornful in

The way she held her head.


They burned a witch in Bingham Square;

Her eyes were terror-wild.

She was a slight, a comely maid,

No taller than a child.


They bound her fast against the stake

And laughed to see her fear . . .

Her red lips muttered secret words

That no one dared to hear.


They burned a witch in Bingham Square—

But ere she swooned with pain

And ere her bones were sodden ash

Beneath the sudden rain,


She set her mark upon that throng . . .

For time can not erase

The echo of her anguished cries,

The memory of her face.


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