er yellow hair slantingly
Drifts the same way that the rain goes by.

Who will be faithful to us to-day,
With little but hard glaive-strokes for pay?

The grim king fumes at the council-board:
Three more days, and then the sword;

Three more days, and my sword through his head;
And above his white brows, pale and dead,

A paper crown on the top of the spire;
And for her the stake and the witches' fire.

Therefore though it be long ere day,
Take axe and pick and spade, I pray.

Break the dams down all over the plain:
God send us three more days such rain!

Block all the upland roads with trees;
The Little Tower with no great ease

Is won, I warrant; bid them bring
Much sheep and oxen, everything

The spits are wont to turn with; wine
And wheaten bread, that we may dine

In plenty each day of the siege.
Good friends, ye know me no hard liege;

My lady is right fair, see ye!
Pray God to keep you frank and free.

Love Isabeau, keep goodly cheer;
The Little Tower will stand well here

Many a year when we are dead,
And over it our green and red,

Barred with the Lady's golden head,
From mere old age when we are dead.

THE SAILING OF THE SWORD

Across the empty garden-beds,
_When the Sword went out to sea,_
I scarcely saw my sisters' heads
Bowed each beside a tree.
I could not see the castle leads,
_When the Sword went out to sea,_

Alicia wore a scarlet gown,
_When the Sword went out to sea,_
But Ursula's was russet brown:
For the mist we could not see
The scarlet roofs of the good town,
_When the Sword went out to sea._

Green holly in Alicia's hand,
_When the Sword went out to sea;_
With sere oak-leaves did Ursula stand;
O! yet alas for me!
I did but bear a peel'd white wand,
_When the Sword went out to sea._

O, russet brown and scarlet bright,
_When the Sword went out to sea,_
My sisters wore; I wore but white:
Red, brown, and white, are three;
Three damozels; each had a knight,
_When the Sword went out to sea._

Sir Robert shouted loud, and said:
_When the Sword went out to sea,_
Alicia, while I see thy head,
What shall I bring for thee?
O, my sweet Lord, a ruby red:
_The Sword went out to sea._

Sir Mil