And once (the boy remember'd
That morning many a day—
The dew lay on the hawthorn,
The bird sang on the spray)
A train of horsemen, nobler
Than he had seen before,
Up from the distance gallop' d,
And paused before the door.
Upon the milk-white pony,
Fit for a fairy queen,
Was the loveliest little damsel
His eyes had ever seen;
A servant-man was holding
The leading rein, to guide
The pony and its mistress
Who cantered by his side.
Her sunny ringlets round her
A golden cloud had made,
While her large hat was keeping
Her calm blue eyes in shade;
One hand held firm the silken reins
To keep her steed in check,
The other pulled his tangled mane,
Or stroked his glossy neck.
And as the boy brought water,
And loosed the rein, he heard
The sweetest voice, that thanked him
In one low, gentle word;
She turned her blue eyes from him,
Look'd up and smiled to see
The hanging purple blossoms
Upon the Judas Tree.
And show'd it with a gesture,
Half pleading, half command,
Till he broke the fairest blossom,
And laid it in her hand;
And she tied it to her saddle,
With a ribbon from her hair,
While her happy laugh rang gayly,
Like silver on the air.
But the champing steeds were rested—
The horsemen now spurr'd on,
And down the dusty highway
They vanished and were gone.
Years pass'd, and many a traveller
Paused at the old inn-door.
But the little milk-white pony
And the child return' d no more.
