The sun was red and low—
At her feet a subject kneeling—
Sweet, far-off bells were pealing—
He rose and turned to go.
“I give you my love!” quoth the Princess
To the subject, bending low.
Ah, Goldenhair, what hast thou given!—
The sun is round and red—
As thou standest there in the portal,
A Princess’ love, to a mortal!—