The Wild Old Wicked Man The wild old wicked man Sat where the branches break And the twilight flow of the lake Like a whisper round the tree. He took the hand of a little girl And lightly called her name And told her tales of the old enchantment game.

Let me take your hand, little girl, I will lead you to the wood, I’ll lead you to the floor of the night, Where the moon know not the great sea’s flood.

The wild old wicked man Willed for glory to appear And takes her hand of silence, To return to innocence is near.

• William Butler Yeats