'Twas the merry month of May
When the birds sing roundelay,
Each to cheer his brooding mate,
Nor was one disconsolate.
'Twas the golden evening hour
When the spells of thought had power,
Giving peace but chasing mirth,
Bidding spirits walk the earth.
'Twas the fairy's silver spring
With its magic murmuring;
By its side a maiden lay,
Weary both of work and play—
"Little life my past has brought—
What is in the present wrought?
Kindly fairy, let me gaze
In my future's tangled maze."
Came the answer soft and low,
Heard amid the water's flow—
"Maiden, perfect love is thine,
Seek no further to divine."
"Perfect love? How shall I know it?
Fairy, say, who shall bestow it?"
"Maiden! years shall wax and wane
Ere thou seek this spring again.
When thou comest I will tell thee
How that fairest fate befell thee."
'Tis the rosy break of day—
By the fountain's dancing spray,
Sword in hand, and sheathed in steel,
Three in early manhood kneel.
"Gentle fairy, hear us now—
We have ta'en the knightly vow—
Sworn to aid the fair and weak,
Grant the boons thy champions seek."
"Grant," saith one, "if death be nigh
Me, for her I love to die."
And the springlet, singing sweet,
Casts a white rose at his feet.