But Parsifal leaped gaily to their midst,
And smiled upon them with unfeigned delight;
And cried:  “Thus do I win my way to you,—­
The loveliest maidens that mine eyes have seen.”

And pacified they ask:  “Thou comest here
And wilt not harm us, but be kind to us?”

And Parsifal:  “Nowhere such maidens live,—­
Fair flowers of the garden of delight. 
I could not treat you ill, you are so fair! 
Again you bring sweet childhood’s days to me,
For you are all so lovely and so bright.”

And then the maidens welcomed the gay youth
And spake to him:  “If thou wilt be our friend,
Then art thou welcome in our happy garden. 
We do not play for gold, but only love,—­
The rosebud garlands of the joy of life.”

Then other maidens came in flowers clad,
And danced around him with their laughing grace,
And sang in tones of winsome witchery: 

  “We are thy fragrant flowers,
   Blooming alone for thee,
   And full of love’s own bliss
   And life’s deep mystery!

  “Come, kiss our rosy lips,
   For thou our lover art,
   And taste the nectar sweet
   Of nature’s secret heart.”

And Parsifal, still with the guileless heart,
And seeing all with only childlike eyes,
Untouched of evil, nor discerning sin,
Asked laughingly:  “And are you really flowers? 
I do not know.  You are so beautiful.”

Then crowded they around him with their charms,
And pleaded with him, “Love us ere we die!”
Crowded each other, jealous of his smile,
And struggling eagerly to win his love.

But Parsifal repulsed their too fond hearts,
And shunned their circle of entwining arms
With gentle gesture:  “Sweetest sister-flowers,
I like ye better in the flowery dance,
And when ye give me space to see your charms. 
Away, sweet sisters, leave me here alone!”

Then did they chide him:  “Art afraid of us,
Or art thou also cold, as well as coward? 
Here butterfly is wooed by loving flowers,
And does not know enough to sip the sweet.”

And Parsifal discerned them then, and cried: 
“Begone, false flowers, ye cannot snare my heart!”

But as he turned to leave the flowery throng,
He heard a sweet voice from a leafy bower
Say:  “Parsifal!  A moment!  Parsifal!”

And quick he stopped and murmured, “Parsifal! 
Who calls me by that gentle mystic name,
That once my mother named me in her dreams?”

And the voice spake:  “O tarry, Parsifal! 
For I have joyous things to tell to thee. 
Ye flowery children, leave him here in peace;
He came not here to waste his time in play. 
Go to the wounded lovers waiting you.”

And so they left him, singing as they went: 

  “Must we leave thee, must we sever,
     Oh, the parting pain! 
   Gladly would we love thee ever
     And with thee remain! 
   Fair one, proud one, now farewell. 
     Guileless, foolish heart, farewell!”