The Naiad Comes Again Poem by Michael Egan

The Naiad Comes Again



Midnight, they say, is the witching hour
When ghosts and goblins walk abroad
But my hour with my witch, my Naiad,
Later is, an hour or two before it dawns

On me O once again that she's an empty spirit,
Like Hamlet's father's ghost substantial in appearance
But insubstantial to the touch.

But just before it dawns my Naiad comes

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