So Margaret sang her sisters home in their marriage mirth;
Sang free birds out of the sky, beasts along the earth,
Sang up fishes of the deep—all breathing things that move,
Sang from far and sang from near to her lovely love;
Sang together friend and foe;
Sang a golden-bearded king straightway to her feet,
Sang him silent where he knelt in eager anguish sweet.
But when the clear voice died away, when longest echoes died,
He stood up like a royal man and claimed her for his bride.
So three maids were wooed and won in a brief May-tide,