We think her white brows often ached Beneath her crown, Till silvery hairs showed in her locks That used to be so brown. "We never heard her speak in haste : Her tones were sweet, And modulated just so much As it was meet: Her heart sat silent through the noise There was no bliss drew nigh to her, "You should have wept her yesterday, Wasting upon her bed : But wherefore should you weep to-day That she is dead? Lo, we who love weep not to-day, But crown her royal head. Let be these poppies that we strew, Your roses are too red: Let be these poppies, not for you Cut down and spread." L MAIDEN-SONG. ONG ago and long ago, And long ago still, There dwelt three merry maidens And one was dainty May, More fair than I can say, Long ago and long ago. When Meggan plucked the thorny rose, Half the beasts draw nigher; Would dart up to admire : But when Margaret plucked a flag-flower, Or poppy hot aflame, All the beasts and all the birds And all the fishes came To her hand more soft than snow. Strawberry leaves and May-dew Strawberry leaves and May-dew |