| A Minstrel stands on a marble stair, Blown by the bright wind, debonair; Below lies the sea, a sapphire floor, Above on the terrace a turret door Frames a lady, listless and wan, But fair for the eye to rest upon. The minstrel plucks at his silver strings, And looking up to the lady, sings: — Down the road to Avignon, The long, long road to Avignon, Across the bridge to Avignon, One morning in the spring. |
| The octagon tower casts a shade Cool and gray like a cutlass blade; In sun-baked vines the cicalas spin, The little green lizards run out and in. A sail dips over the ocean’s rim, And bubbles rise to the fountain’s brim. The minstrel touches his silver strings, And gazing up to the lady, sings: — Down the road to Avignon, The long, long road to Avignon, Across the bridge to Avignon, One morning in the spring. |
| Slowly she walks to the balustrade, Idly notes how the blossoms fade In the sun’s caress; then crosses where The shadow shelters a carven chair. Within its curve, supine she lies, And wearily closes her tired eyes. The minstrel beseeches his silver strings, And holding the lady spellbound, sings: — Down the road to Avignon, The long, long road to Avignon, Across the bridge to Avignon, One morning in the spring. |
| Clouds sail over the distant trees, Petals are shaken down by the breeze, They fall on the terrace tiles like snow; The sighing of waves sounds, far below. A humming-bird kisses the lips of a rose Then laden with honey and love he goes. The minstrel woos with his silver strings, And climbing up to the lady, sings: — Down the road to Avignon, The long, long road to Avignon, Across the bridge to Avignon, One morning in the spring. |
| Step by step, and he comes to her, Fearful lest she suddenly stir. Sunshine and silence, and each to each, The lute and his singing their only speech; He leans above her, her eyes unclose, The humming-bird enters another rose. The minstrel hushes his silver strings. Hark! The beating of humming-birds’ wings! Down the road to Avignon, The long, long road to Avignon, Across the bridge to Avignon, One morning in the spring. |