And often in those grand old woods And my heart will travel back again Where we sat side by side, And the springin' corn, and the bright May morn, When first you were my bride. Helen Selina Sheridan [1807-1867] THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE WORD was brought to the Danish king (Hurry!) That the love of his heart lay suffering, And pined for the comfort his voice would bring; (O, ride as though you were flying!) Better he loves each golden curl On the brow of that Scandinavian girl Than his rich crown jewels of ruby and pearl: And his rose of the isles is dying! Thirty nobles saddled with speed; (Hurry!) Each one mounting a gallant steed Which he kept for battle and days of need; His nobles are beaten, one by one; (Hurry!) They have fainted, and faltered, and homeward gone; His little fair page now follows alone, For strength and for courage trying! The king looked back at that faithful child; The Watcher 1089 They passed the drawbridge with clattering din, The king blew a blast on his bugle horn; No answer came; but faint and forlorn The castle portal stood grimly wide; None welcomed the king from that weary ride; The panting steed, with a drooping crest, Stood weary. The king returned from her chamber of rest, And, that dumb companion eyeing, The tears gushed forth which he strove to check; To the halls where my love lay dying!" Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton [1808-1870] THE WATCHER A ROSE for a young head, A ring for a bride, Joy for the homestead Clean and wide Who's that waiting In the rain outside? A heart for an old friend, A hand for the new: Love can to earth lend Heaven's hue Who's that standing In the silver dew? A smile for the parting, Who's that watching Where the black winds blow? He who is waiting In the rain outside, He who is standing Where the dew drops wide, He who is watching In the wind must ride (Though the pale hands cling) With the rose And the ring And the bride, Must ride With the red of the rose, And the gold of the ring, And the lips and the hair of the bride. James Stephens [18 THE THREE SISTERS GONE are those three, those sisters rare One was wise and one was fair, And one was mine. Ye mourners, weave for the sleeping hair Of only two your ivy vine. For one was wise and one was fair, But one was mine. Arthur Davison Ficke (1883 BALLAD HE said: "The shadows darken down, The night is near at hand. Now who's the friend will follow me Into the sunless land? Ballad "For I have vassals leal and true, And I have comrades kind, He sought the brother young and blithe "In the long chase you've followed me, "Few vows you make; but true's your heart, He said: "God speed you, brother mine, He sought the friar, the gray old priest The friar he turned him to the east He said: "A godless name you bear, "Oh, hasten, get your guilty soul He sought the lady bright and proud, She said: "And pass you in your prime? Many and many a year." 1091 All heavily the sun sank down Through gazing vassals, idle serfs, The winding staircase echoed not His lady eyed her scornfully. "There is no expiation, none. A bitter load I bore: Now I shall love you nevermore, Never and nevermore. "There is no touch or tone of yours Oh, he has kissed her on the brow, Into the starless land. May Kendall [1861 "O THAT 'TWERE POSSIBLE" From "Maud" O THAT 'twere possible After long grief and pain To find the arms of my true love |