Poems (May)/Dame Margaret

by Edith May

DAME MARGARET.

With mettled steed, and hawk on hand,
 Gay ride ye forth at morn's arise,
While light with shade, as dreams with sleep,
 Strives battling o'er the skies.
Fair floats your plume athwart the breeze,
 And, loosed from band and golden net,
Your ringlets chase the summer wind,
     Dame Margaret!

Your steed stands checked within the gate,
 With upreared hoofs, and crest of pride;
Your coupled hounds hay down in ire
 The echoes as they chide;
The page holds slack the silken leash,
 The steed that checks his light curvette
Bears hotly on the golden bit,
     Dame Margaret!

Ride forth, nor read the heart would lose
 Life, sense, and soul, all these save love,
To be the breeze your ringlets kiss,
 The hawk upon your glove;
Ride forth your bonny earl beside,
 Nor deign to think how once ye met
At morning's blush a lowlier love,
     Dame Margaret!