In her fluttered heart young May
  Mused a dubious while: 
’If he loves me as he says’—­
  Her lips curved with a smile: 
’Where Margaret shines like the sun
  I shine but like a moon;
If sister Meggan makes her choice
  I can make mine as soon;
At cockcrow we were sister-maids, 150
  We may be brides at noon.’ 
Said Meggan, ‘Yes;’ May said not ‘No.’

Fair Margaret stayed alone at home,
  Awhile she sang her song,
Awhile sat silent, then she thought: 
  ‘My sisters loiter long.’ 
That sultry noon had waned away,
  Shadows had waxen great: 
‘Surely,’ she thought within herself,
  ‘My sisters loiter late.’ 160
She rose, and peered out at the door,
  With patient heart to wait,
And heard a distant nightingale
  Complaining of its mate;
Then down the garden slope she walked,
  Down to the garden gate,
Leaned on the rail and waited so.

The slope was lightened by her eyes
  Like summer lightning fair,
Like rising of the haloed moon 170
  Lightened her glimmering hair,
While her face lightened like the sun
  Whose dawn is rosy white. 
Thus crowned with maiden majesty
  She peered into the night,
Looked up the hill and down the hill,
  To left hand and to right,
Flashing like fire-flies to and fro.

Waiting thus in weariness
  She marked the nightingale 180
Telling, if any one would heed,
  Its old complaining tale. 
Then lifted she her voice and sang,
  Answering the bird: 
Then lifted she her voice and sang,
  Such notes were never heard
From any bird when Spring’s in blow.

The king of all that country
  Coursing far, coursing near,
Curbed his amber-bitted steed, 190
  Coursed amain to hear;
All his princes in his train,
  Squire, and knight, and peer,
With his crown upon his head,
  His sceptre in his hand,
Down he fell at Margaret’s knees
  Lord king of all that land,
To her highness bending low.

Every beast and bird and fish
  Came mustering to the sound, 200
Every man and every maid
  From miles of country round: 
Meggan on her herdsman’s arm,
  With her shepherd May,
Flocks and herds trooped at their heels
  Along the hill-side way;
No foot too feeble for the ascent,
  Not any head too grey;
Some were swift and none were slow.

So Margaret sang her sisters home 210
  In their marriage mirth;
Sang free birds out of the sky,
  Beasts along the earth,
Sang up fishes of the deep—­
  All breathing things that move
Sang from far and sang from near
  To her lovely love;
Sang together friend and foe;