Whence came the fire in her eyes, eyes of a beast in the jungle,

Desperate, golden and green, wild as a river in spate?

Her long lithe limbs were brown, and she took the world as a leopard,

Grave, disdainful and strong, takes of his prey without hate.

Glamourie slept in her eyes, terribly calm in the tumult,

Hidden and secret and sweet was the smile of her crimson mouth.

A marigold wound in her hair, she swayed like wind in the desert,

Burning and thrilling to thirst the hearts that dream of the South.

Whence came the fire in her eyes? I, only I, knew the secret,

The thing that hung on her breast, hid by her stormy hair,

Amber drops on a string, her talisman, witches’ amber,

Golden, yellow and brown, that only a witch may wear.