Classic Poem

Sir Ulrich rides through the forest green,
Where merrily leaves are glistening;
Before him a maiden form is seen
Amongst the branches listening.

" I know her well, " says the gay gallant,
" The blooming blossom yonder;
Tempting, doth she my pathway haunt
When in crowds or alone I wander.

" Twin little rosebuds are her lips,
So fresh and so delightful,
But often from between them slips
A hateful word and spiteful.

" And therefore much a rosebush fair
Her little mouth resembles,
And venomed snakes of cunning rare
Hiss where the foliage trembles.

" And that delicious dimple, too,
Upon the cheek delicious,
That is a pit I plunged into,
Crazed by desire pernicious.

" The beauteous curls I loved so well
Upon that head of beauty,
They were the net wherein I fell
To be the devil's booty.

" And that blue eye as clear to see
As waters gliding purely,
It seemed the gate of heaven to me,
Yet it was hell's gate surely. "

And through the wood Sir Ulrich rides,
The dark leaves whisper eerie,
Another Form before him glides,
But this is wan and weary.

" O Mother! " he cries, " who lovd'st me so,
With mother's love so truly,
Whose life I turned to bitter woe
With act and word unruly.

" Could I dry thine eyes with the scorching heat
Wherewith my own pangs are glowing!
Could I crimson thy cheeks so pale and sweet
With blood from my own heart flowing! "

And the knight rides on among the trees;
The twilight shades are falling,
And murmurs rise on the evening breeze,
Strange voices round him calling.

And again and again are the words renewed,
The words himself had uttered;
'Twas the sly little birds of the good green wood
That sang and chattered and fluttered.

" Sir Ulrich sings his pretty song,
His song of remorseful sorrow,
And when he comes to the end of his song,
He'll begin it again on the morrow. "