There is magic on the meadow
And a witch has won the wood,
Elfin laughter from the water
As it rolls a rhythmic flood;
For a spirit meets my spirit
With a flash of iris-wings,
And all the world's a garden
Glad with many blossomings!
THE KING AND THE MAID
"O love"—cried the King
On a day in spring,
As he went through the leafy wood—
"I must be away
To the court this day!"
And he threw back the purple hood
From his royal brow
That was paling now
With the pain of the parting hour:
For the maid was dear,
And her lips were near
To his lips, like a crimson flower.
"I shall be alone
On a gilded throne
In the midst of my nobles all;
From my diadem
To my garment's hem,
I shall ache for your light footfall:
'Tis no little thing,
Dear, to be a king
With love of a man for a maid,
And to play the part
With an empty heart,
Like a scabbard without its blade."
But the maid was wise,
And her hazel eyes
Were brave with the light of her love:
"God save thee, my King,
From great suffering,
Grant thee of His grace from above!
Canst thou play thy part
With an empty heart,
If I fill it full to the brim
Of the wine of prayer
From the bowl I bear?"
And his eyes with the tears were dim!
"On that ivory throne
Shalt thou be alone,
If my thoughts are a-wing to thee;
If upon thy brow
That is paling now,
My lips mark where the crown shall be?"
So the King rode south
From her crimson mouth
Through the forest, field and the fells;
And his voice was strong
With words of a song
To a chime of the bridle-bells.
A WOMAN'S PRAYER
God of the heaven and earth,
Bring to the birth
Soul of the man that I love;
From the Above,