nor discerning sin,
Asked laughingly: "And are you really flowers?
I do not know. You are so beautiful."

Then crowded they around him with their charms,
And pleaded with him, "Love us ere we die!"
Crowded each other, jealous of his smile,
And struggling eagerly to win his love.

But Parsifal repulsed their too fond hearts,
And shunned their circle of entwining arms
With gentle gesture: "Sweetest sister-flowers,
I like ye better in the flowery dance,
And when ye give me space to see your charms.
Away, sweet sisters, leave me here alone!"

Then did they chide him: "Art afraid of us,
Or art thou also cold, as well as coward?
Here butterfly is wooed by loving flowers,
And does not know enough to sip the sweet."

And Parsifal discerned them then, and cried:
"Begone, false flowers, ye cannot snare my heart!"

But as he turned to leave the flowery throng,
He heard a sweet voice from a leafy bower
Say: "Parsifal! A moment! Parsifal!"

And quick he stopped and murmured, "Parsifal!
Who calls me by that gentle mystic name,
That once my mother named me in her dreams?"

And the voice spake: "O tarry, Parsifal!
For I have joyous things to tell to thee.
Ye flowery children, leave him here in peace;
He came not here to waste his time in play.
Go to the wounded lovers waiting you."

And so they left him, singing as they went:

"Must we leave thee, must we sever,
Oh, the parting pain!
Gladly would we love thee ever
And with thee remain!
Fair one, proud one, now farewell.
Guileless, foolish heart, farewell!"

And gaily laughing at the guileless youth,
They rushed into the palace and were gone.
And Parsifal spake slowly to himself:
"Was all this nothing but a passing dream?"

But looking whence the other voice had come,
He saw the leafy bower had opened wide,
And on a flowery couch a maiden lay,
More beautiful than heart could ever dream,
Clad in some light gown of Arabian stuff.
And Parsifal, still standing high aloof,
Spake courteously: "Didst thou call to me
And name me who am nameless unto all?"

And she replied: "I named thee, guileless lad,--
I named thee by thine own name, Parsifal.
For so thy father Gamuret named thee,
Before he died in that Arabian land,--
Named thee before thine eyes had seen the light,
Named thee with greeting in his dying breath.
Here have I waited thee to tell thee all.
What drew thee here but the desire to know?"

And Parsifal: "I never saw, nor dreame