Sun-glow flushed their comely cheeks, wind-play tossed their hair,
Creeping things among the grass stroked them here and there;
Meggan piped a merry note, a fitful, wayward lay,
While shrill as bird on topmost twig piped 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 feet as love-bird on his nest,
And wooed her with a silent awe, with trouble not expressed;