The Singing Leaves
I
“What fairings will ye that I bring?”
Said the King to his daughters three;
“For I to Vanity Fair am boun’,
Now say what shall they be?”
Then up and spake the eldest daughter,
That lady tall and grand:
“Oh, bring me pearls and diamonds great,
And gold rings for my hand.”
Thereafter spake the second daughter,
That was both white and red:
“For me bring silks that will stand alone,
And a gold comb for my head.”
Then came the turn of the least daughter,
That was whiter than thistle-down,
And among the gold of her blithesome hair
Dim shone the golden crown.
“There came a bird this morning,
And sang ’neath my bower eaves,
Till I dreamed, as his music made me,
‘Ask thou for the Singing Leaves.’”
Then the brow of the King swelled crimson
With a flush of angry scorn:
“Well have ye spoken, my two eldest,
And chosen as ye were born;
“But she, like a thing of peasant race,
That is happy binding the sheaves;”
Then he saw her dead mother in her face,
And said, “Thou shalt have thy leaves.”