The Knight and the Maiden stand
Again by their own fair stream;
And the Knight gazes round as all
Were but a beautiful dream.
Then told the Maid how she wept
O'er many a phantom fear,
That in an absent hour
Like twilight shades appear;
How, garbed as a Minstrel-boy,
His prison she had sought,
And by her patient love
Had his deliverance wrought.
She told how she had flung
The seeds of their signal flower,
In trust that its glad sight
Would cheer his prison hour.
Next morn came a sound of lutes
And song from a fair array,
And flowers were scattered round,
To hail their bridal day.
There was not a summer bloom
In their many wreaths forgot:
In the bride's hair was only one,
Her own FORGET ME NOT.
