Maiden-Song

Long ago and long ago,And long ago still,There dwelt three merry maidensUpon a distant hill.One was tall Meggan,And one was dainty May,But one was fair Margaret,More fair than I can say,Long ago and long ago.

When Meggan plucked the thorny rose,And when May pulled the brier,Half the birds would swoop to see,Half the beasts draw nigher;Half the fishes of the streamsWould dart up to admire:But when Margaret plucked a flag-flower,Or poppy hot aflame,All the beasts and all the birdsAnd all the fishes cameTo her hand more soft than snow.

Strawberry leaves and May-dewIn brisk morning air,Strawberry leaves and May-dewMake maidens fair.'I go for strawberry leaves,'Meggan said one day:'Fair Margaret can bide at home,But you come with me, May;Up the hill and down the hill,Along the winding wayYou and I are used to go.'

So these two fair sistersWent with innocent willUp the hill and down again,And round the homestead hill:While the fairest sat at home,Margaret like a queen,Like a blush-rose, like the moonIn her heavenly sheen,Fragrant-breathed as milky cowOr field of blossoming bean,Graceful as an ivy boughBorn to cling and lean;Thus she sat to sing and sew.

When she raised her lustrous eyesA beast peeped at the door;When she downward cast her eyesA fish gasped on the floor;When she turned away her eyesA bird perched on the sill,Warbling out its heart of love,Warbling warbling still,With pathetic pleadings low.

Light-foot May with MegganSought the choicest spot,Clothed with thyme-alternate grass:Then, while day waxed hot,Sat at ease to play and rest,A gracious rest and play;The loveliest maidens near or far,When Margaret was away,Who sat at home to sing and sew.

Sun-glow flushed their comely cheeks,Wind-play tossed their hair,Creeping things among the grassStroked them here and there;Meggan piped a merry note,A fitful wayward lay,While shrill as bird on topmost twigPiped merry May;Honey-smooth the double flow.

Sped a herdsman from the vale,Mounting like a flame,All on fire to hear and see,With floating locks he came.Looked neither north nor south,Neither east nor west,But sat him down at Meggan's feetAs love-bird on his nest,And wooed her with a silent awe,With trouble not expressed;She sang the tears into his eyes,The heart out of his breast:So he loved her, listening so.

She sang the heart out of his breast,The words out of his tongue;Hand and foot and pulse he pausedTill her song was sung.Then he spoke up from his placeSimple words and true:'Scanty goods have I to give,Scanty skill to woo;But I have a will to work,And a heart for you:Bid me stay or bid me go.'

Then Meggan mused within herself:'Better be first with him,Than dwell where fairer Margaret sits,Who shines my brightness dim,For ever second where she sits,However fair I be:I will be lady of his love,And he shall worship me;I will be lady of his herdsAnd stoop to his degree,At home where kids and fatlings grow.'

Sped a shepherd from the heightHeadlong down to look,(White lambs followed, lured by loveOf their shepherd's crook):He turned neither east nor west,Neither north nor south,But knelt right down to May, for loveOf her sweet-singing mouth;Forgot his flocks, his panting flocksIn parching hill-side drouth;Forgot himself for weal or woe.

Trilled her song and swelled her songWith maiden coy capriceIn a labyrinth of throbs,Pauses, cadences;Clear-noted as a dropping brook,Soft-noted like the bees,Wild-noted as the shivering windForlorn through forest trees:Love-noted like the wood-pigeonWho hides herself for love,Yet cannot keep her secret safe,But coos and coos thereof:Thus the notes rang loud or low.

He hung breathless on her breath;Speechless, who listened well;Could not speak or think or wishTill silence broke the spell.Then he spoke, and spread his hands,Pointing here and there:'See my sheep and see the lambs,Twin lambs which they bare.All myself I offer you,All my flocks and care,Your sweet song hath moved me so.'

In her fluttered heart young MayMused a dubious while:'If he loves me as he says'--Her lips curved with a smile:'Where Margaret shines like the sunI shine but like a moon;If sister Meggan makes her choiceI can make mine as soon;At cockcrow we were sister-maids,We may be brides at noon.'Said Meggan, 'Yes;' May said not 'No.'

Fair Margaret stayed alone at home,Awhile she sang her song,Awhile sat silent, then she thought:'My sisters loiter long.'That sultry noon had waned away,Shadows had waxen great:'Surely,' she thought within herself,'My sisters loiter late.'She rose, and peered out at the door,With patient heart to wait,And heard a distant nightingaleComplaining of its mate;Then down the garden slope she walked,Down to the garden gate,Leaned on the rail and waited so.

The slope was lightened by her eyesLike summer lightning fair,Like rising of the haloed moonLightened her glimmering hair,While her face lightened like the sunWhose dawn is rosy white.Thus crowned with maiden majestyShe peered into the night,Looked up the hill and down the hill,To left hand and to right,Flashing like fire-flies to and fro.

Waiting thus in wearinessShe marked the nightingaleTelling, if any one would heed,Its old complaining tale.Then lifted she her voice and sang,Answering the bird:Then lifted she her voice and sang,Such notes were never heardFrom any bird when Spring's in blow.

The king of all that countryCoursing far, coursing near,Curbed his amber-bitted steed,Coursed amain to hear;All his princes in his train,Squire, and knight, and peer,With his crown upon his head,His sceptre in his hand,Down he fell at Margaret's kneesLord king of all that land,To her highness bending low.

Every beast and bird and fishCame mustering to the sound,Every man and every maidFrom miles of country round:Meggan on her herdsman's arm,With her shepherd May,Flocks and herds trooped at their heelsAlong the hill-side way;No foot too feeble for the ascent,Not any head too grey;Some were swift and none were slow.

So Margaret sang her sisters homeIn their marriage mirth;Sang free birds out of the sky,Beasts along the earth,Sang up fishes of the deep--All breathing things that moveSang from far and sang from nearTo her lovely love;Sang together friend and foe;

Sang a golden-bearded kingStraightway to her feet,Sang him silent where he kneltIn eager anguish sweet.But when the clear voice died away,When longest echoes died,He stood up like a royal manAnd claimed her for his bride.So three maids were wooed and wonIn a brief May-tide,Long ago and long ago.