The Lord's son stood at the clear spring head,
The May on the other side,
"And stretch me your lily hand," he said,
"For I must mount and ride.
"And waft me a kiss across the brook,
And a curl of your yellow hair;
Come summer or winter, I ne'er shall look
Again on your eyes so fair.
"Bring me my coal-black steed, my squire,
Bring Fleetfoot forth!" he cried;