THE BEGGAR MAID
All on a golden morning the beggar maid did go
To gather branch and berry, the hazel-nut and aloe.
And as she went a-singing, a gipsy woman came
Beneath a bower of branches—a grey and withered dame.
“Your fortune, pretty lady, I pray you stop and hear,
I tell of one who loves you, of child you will hold dear.
Cross you my palm with silver, for in your hand I see
That gold shall lie full often, so pity give to me.”
The beggar child made answer in laughter low and gay
“Alack, you have mistaken, good mother, hie away;
I am no high-born lady, my fortune soon is told.
I wed some roaming fellow who hath nor land nor gold.
“My son—if God should bless me—a-seeking too must go—
To gather branch and berry, the hazel-nut and sloe.”
Then spake the gipsy woman and took her brown young hand,
“Nay, you shall reign hereafter as queen of all the land.
“For see—the splendid future—that whispers of a throne—
And here the happy heart-line that owns one love alone.”
“Good mother,” said the maiden, “that love make true to be.
And I resign the kingdom—yet never owned by me.”
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