In a house in the forest lives the witch Celine;
Her hair it is yellow and her eyes are green,
And she can see without being seen;
Mysterious witch Celine.
Celine wove a spell in the full moon's light,
To erase her form from mortal sight.
Now she moves unseen when the sun is bright;
And like a ghost at night.
A little bird lives in a willow tree.
Where Celine goes, there goes he.
He can fly but he's not free;
Where she is, he must be.
He flutters o'er the spring in the morning light
Where Celine doth bathe, so lily white.
And he, by her window in shades of night,
Sees her star-glazed eyes so bright.
For he alone of all, can see
Her shapely form, her rare beauty;
And she sees all, save only he;
He's the one thing she can't see.
The bird was a man who loved her deep;
Her troth she pledged but could not keep;
Thus cursed him evermore to weep
For the faithless witch Celine.
And now in feathered shape he flies,
He must attend her 'till he dies;
While she for her part never cries,
But roams the earth, unseen.
Watching all, but touching not;
Longing for she knows not what;
Feeling neither cold nor hot,
She moves as in a dream;
Unhappy witch, Celine.
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