Classic Poem

I have heard a ballad sung,
I have listened to a tale,
Of a lady blithe and young,
Gay of laughter, sweet of tongue,
Fey and flower-pale.

None there was who knew her sire,
None knew her land nor home;
Down the road she ran like fire,
The young winds tossed her laughter higher —
Was she flame or foam?

They knew not, the folk who fared
To field or simple task.
And her name — had they but dared!
Alas, they only smiled and stared.
Her name they could not ask.

For while they saw her face they knew
Most strange and lovely things;
A rounding coast and waters blue,
A yellow sail the sun strikes through,
And a scarlet bird that sings.

Or they remembered how a wall
Takes shadows in the moon;
They heard again the Spring rain fall,
And once, perhaps, a far sweet call
Down a drowsy afternoon.

Then she was gone and had not said
Her name to call her by.
They followed long where she had fled,
But those who pressed most far ahead,
What name had they to cry?

I have heard a ballad sung,
Of a lady fey,
Of a lady blithe and young,
Gay of laughter, sweet of tongue,
I saw her yesterday!