Maybe I'll sprinkle them into a black-iron cauldron

Together with the heart of a doe, the eye of a nightingale
The song of a dragon captured mid-flight
The memory of roses, and a maiden's sigh.

Stirred three times widdershins, and left to stand beneath a blue moon
For all of three midnights.

A brew to make your eyes look, when they fall upon me
The same way mine do, when they fall upon you.