Maid Marion

Little Maid Marion, Rose in June,
What breath of prophecy comes and goes,
And stirs your heart like a vagrant tune
Till the deepening bloom on your soft cheek glows,

And your blue eyes shine like the morning sky
Just alight with the morning star —
Hopeful and happy and sweet and shy,
While day and its glare are yet afar?

Have you heard a name that we do not hear
And set it to music all your own?
Has there come to you in a vision, Dear,
A face that only your eyes have known?

Or is it still but a wandering voice
That whispers you something vague and sweet,
Of days of wooing and days of choice,
And hearts that meet as the waters meet?

Days that will come to you, Rose in June —
Days that will test you and try you and show
The sacredest meaning, the secretest tune,
Of all that your maidenly heart can know.

They will leave you not as they find you, Dear —
The morning star gives place to the sun;
But your blue eyes meet me, faithful and clear,
I can trust your soul, when the dream is done.
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