Even a man who is pure of heart,
And says his pryers by night.
May become a wolf.
When the wolfsbane blooms.
And the autumn moon is bright.
-OLD GYPSY’s POEM.
Even a man who is pure of heart,
And says his pryers by night.
May become a wolf.
When the wolfsbane blooms.
And the autumn moon is bright.
-OLD GYPSY’s POEM.
