"That's a very nice War Song—it's so peaceful and soothing," spake the Queen. "And now call the Poets from Freeland. This is the time for them to renew their licences, though I greatly fear that they have been taking so many liberties of late that any licence I can give them will prove superfluous."
"Superfluous! Superfluous! That is a good word," muttered the Zankiwank. "I wonder what it means?" Whereupon he went and asked Robin Goodfellow and all the other Fairies, but as nobody knew, it did not matter, and the Poets arriving at that moment he thought of a number and sat on a toadstool.
Maude recognised several of the Poets who came to have their licences renewed—she had heard of "poetic licence" before, but never dreamed that one had to get the unwritten freedom from Fairyland. But so it was. Several of the Poets seemed to be exorbitant in their demands, and wanted to make their poems all licence, but this Titania would not consent to, so they went away singing, all in tune too, a little piece that Robin Goodfellow said was a Rondel:—
Life is but a mingled song,
Sung in divers keys;
Sweet and tender, brave and strong,
As the heart agrees.
Naught but love each maid will please
When emotions throng;
Life is but a mingled song,
Sung in divers keys.
Youth and age nor deem it wrong,
Sing with joyous ease,
That your days you may prolong
Freed from Care's decrees.
Life is but a mingled song
Sung in divers keys.
So on their way they went rejoicing—saying pretty things to the fairies, the flowers and the birds, for they are their best friends you know, and they love all Nature with a vast and all-embracing, all-enduring love.
One singer as he went along chanted half-sadly:—
To tell of other's joys the poet sings;
To tell of Love, its sweets and eke its pain;
The tenderest songs his magic fancy strings,
Of Love, perchance, that he may never gain.
Hearts may not break and passion may be weak,
But O the grief of Love that dare never speak!