White Witchcraft

A poem by Robert Browning

If you and I could change to beasts, what beast should either be?
Shall you and I play Jove for once? Turn fox then, I decree!
Shy wild sweet stealer of the grapes! Now do your worst on me!

And thus you think to spite your friend, turned loathsome? What, a toad?
So, all men shrink and shun me! Dear men, pursue your road!
Leave but my crevice in the stone, a reptile’s fit abode

Now say your worst, Canidia! “He’s loathsome, I allow:
There may or may not lurk a pearl beneath his puckered brow:
But see his eyes that follow mine, love lasts there, anyhow.”

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