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."

II

He mounted and rode three days and nights
Till he came to Vanity Fair,

And 't was easy to buy the gems and the silk,
But no Singing Leaves were there.

Then deep in the greenwood rode he,
And asked of every tree,

"Oh, if you have ever a Singing Leaf,
I pray you give it me!"

But the trees all kept their counsel,

And never a word said they,
Only there sighed from the pine-tops
A music of seas far away.

Only the pattering aspen

Made a sound of growing rain,
That fell ever faster and faster,
Then faltered to silence again.

"Oh, where shall I find a little foot-page
That would win both hose and shoon,3
And will bring to me the Singing Leaves
If they grow under the moon?"

Then lightly turned him Walter the page,
By the stirrup as he ran:

"Now pledge you me the truesome word
Of a king and gentleman,

"That you will give me the first, first thing You meet at your castle-gate,

And the Princess shall get the Singing Leaves, Or mine be a traitor's fate."

The King's head dropt upon his breast
A moment, as it might be;

"'T will be my dog," he thought, and said,
"My faith I plight to thee."

Then Walter took from next his heart
A packet small and thin,

"Now give you this to the Princess Anne;
The Singing Leaves are therein."

3. Shoon. Shoes.

III

As the King rode in at his castle-gate,

A maiden to meet him ran,

And "Welcome, father!" she laughed and cried
Together, the Princess Anne.

"Lo, here the Singing Leaves," quoth he,
"And woe, but they cost me dear!"
She took the packet, and the smile
Deepened down beneath the tear.

It deepened down till it reached her heart,
And then gushed up again,

And lighted her tears as the sudden sun
Transfigures the summer rain.

And the first Leaf, when it was opened,
Sang: "I am Walter the page,

And the songs I sing 'neath thy window
Are my only heritage."

And the second Leaf sang: “But in the land

That is neither on earth nor sea,

My lute and I are lords of more

Than thrice this kingdom's fee.” 4

And the third Leaf sang, "Be mine! Be mine!"
And ever it sang, "Be mine!"

Then sweeter it sang and ever sweeter,
And said, "I am thine, thine, thine!"

At the first Leaf she grew pale enough,
At the second she turned aside,
At the third, 't was as if a lily flushed
With a rose's red heart's tide.

4. Fee. Wealth.

"Good counsel gave the bird," said she,
"I have my hope thrice o'er,

For they sing to my very heart," she said,
"And it sings to them evermore."

She brought to him her beauty and truth,
But and 5 broad earldoms three,

And he made her queen of the broader lands
He held of his lute in fee.

19

IN SCHOOL-DAYS1

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

Still sits the schoolhouse by the road,
A ragged beggar 2 sunning;
Around it still the sumachs grow,

And blackberry vines are running.

Within, the master's desk is seen,
Deep scarred by raps official;
The warping floor, the battered seats,
The jack-knife's carved initial;

5. But and. But also.

1.

"Holmes calls this 'the most beautiful school-boy poem in the English language.'"-Pickard, Life and Letters of Whittier.

"Many years ago the little schoolhouse commemorated in 'School Days' was sold, and it was to be removed by its purchaser. It had hardly started on its journey when one of the wheels on which it was placed broke down and the building was left standing in the middle of the road, where it was burned by the boys. Mr. Whittier never himself indicated that the poem was other than imaginative except by including it in his collected works under the head of 'subjective and reminiscent." "-Pickard, ibid.

2. Beggar. The schoolhouse is no longer in use; hence the poet calls it a beggar.

The charcoal frescos on its wall;
Its door's worn sill, betraying

The feet that, creeping slow to school,
Went storming out to playing!

Long years ago a winter sun
Shone over it at setting;
Lit up its western window-panes,
And low eaves' icy fretting.

It touched the tangled golden curls,
And brown eyes full of grieving,
Of one who still her steps delayed
When all the school were leaving.

For near her stood the little boy
Her childish favor singled:
His cap pulled low upon a face

Where pride and shame were mingled.

Pushing with restless feet the snow
To right and left, he lingered;-
As restlessly her tiny hands

The blue-checked apron fingered.

He saw her lift her eyes; he felt
The soft hand's light caressing,
And heard the tremble of her voice,
As if a fault confessing.

"I'm sorry that I spelt the word: I hate to go above you,

Because," the brown eyes lower fell,"Because, you see, I love you!"