Page 165 - the-merry-adventures-of-robin-hood

Thus cried May Ellen, soft and low,
From where the hawthorn shed its snow.

‘Down dropped the bird on quivering wing,
From out the blossoming tree,
And nestled in her snowy breast.
‘My love! my love!’ cried she;
Then straightway home, ‘mid sun and flower,
She bare him to her own sweet bower.

‘The day hath passed to mellow night,
The moon floats o’er the lea,
And in its solemn, pallid light
A youth stands silently:
A youth of beauty strange and rare,
Within May Ellen’s bower there.

‘He stood where o’er the pavement cold
The glimmering moonbeams lay.
May Ellen gazed with wide, scared eyes,
Nor could she turn away,
For, as in mystic dreams we see
A spirit, stood he silently.

‘All in a low and breathless voice,
‘Whence comest thou?’ said she;
‘Art thou the creature of a dream,
Or a vision that I see?’
Then soft spake he, as night winds shiver

1 The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood