With green swords pointing to heaven,
When the dawn flushed, glad to see,
Like three gay knights in the garden
Were flaunting the Fleurs-de-lis.
And the plumes of two were purple,
The color of hope and pride,
And the last was snowy-crested,
As a maiden soul should ride.
But a wind from the west brought warning,
And at noontide, a sound of power,