Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 169

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CLXIX THE MAIDEN
Who was this that came by the way, When the flowers were springing?She bore in her hair the buds of May, And a bird on her shoulder, singing.
A girdle of the fairest green Her slender waist confinèd.And such a flame was never seen As in her eyes there shinèd.
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By the way she came, that way she went, And took the sunlight with her.The May of life shall all be spent Ere she again come hither!

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