This World Is Made A Witchcraft Place With Gazing On A Woman'S Face. Now 'Tis Her Smile, Whose Sorcery Turns All My Thoughts To Melody. Now 'Tis Her Frown, That Comes And Goes, That Makes My Day A Page Of Prose. And Now Her Laugh, Or But A Word, That In My Heart Frees Wild A Bird. Some Day, Perhaps, A Kiss Of Hers, Will Lift From My Dumb Life The Curse Of Longing, Inarticulate, That Keeps Me Sad And Celibate.