Her cheeks are paler than the moon
That sails along a sunny sky,
And yet her silent mouth is red
Where tender words and kisses lie.
That lies so far beneath her feet.
I am a minstrel with a harp.
For love of her my songs are sweet,
And yet I dare not lift the voice
The Knight sings:
O princess cease your dreams awhile
And look adown your tower's gray side—
The princess gazes far away,
Nor hears nor heeds the words I cried.
Perchance my heart was overbold,
God made her dreams too pure to break,
She sees the angels in the air
Fly to and fro for Mary's sake.
I am the Knight of the Plume of Blue.
Farewell, I mount and go my way,
—But oh her hair the sun sifts thro'—
The tilts and tourneys wait my spear,