Author Anonymous Here we come a-piping,In Springtime and in May;Green fruit a-ripening,And Winter fled away.The Queen she sits upon the strand,Fair as a lily, white as wand;Seven billows on the sea,Horses riding fast and free.And bells beyond the sand. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 2 (1 vote) Rate Log in or register to post comments