Classic Poem

STRÖVTÅG I HEMBYGDEN

King Lily-o'-th'-Valley so stately
He shines in the grove snow-white,
The young king sorroweth greatly,
For his frost-slain princess bright.

King Lily-o'-th'-Valley, he sinketh
His head so heavy with care,
The light of his helmet blinketh
In the hueless evening air.

A shroud of cobweb covers
The form so fair in death,
While soft flower-incense hovers
And fills the woods with its breath.

From the birch-tops mournfully swinging,
From the wind's green bower on high
Wee songs of lament are ringing,
Till the woods are filled with a sigh.

Through the glades a messenger beareth
The sigh to each whispering leaf,
Till all the wide forest heareth
Of Lily-o'-th'-Valley's grief.