Classic Poem

Mamma, as I went out to-day
To school, my pockets laden
With nuts, I met upon the way
A dainty little maiden.
She looked as sweet as when you bake
A little twist of raisin-cake.

She had anemones in her hair,
A nosegay on her bosom.
She skipped along on tiptoe there,
Her basket all a-blossom.
And as she went, yet more and more
Fell out the flowers that she bore.

She said: “Oh, come and play with me
In yonder blooming alley!
The lark is warbling there for thee,
The brook sings in the valley.”
I said: “Not now; it would be wrong,
Because my lessons are so long.”

I asked her: “What 's your name?” She said,
“Just Maia; I 've no other.”
“Who 's your mamma, a lady bred?”
“A jackdaw is my mother.”
“Who 's your papa?” “The west wind he.”
“Your sister?” “Rose-on-Cheek is she.”

I asked then: “Are you poor?” “How so?
The sun is my grandfather.”
“And do you go to school?” “Oh, no.
I pick the flowers rather.”
“Where do you live?” “On all the earth.”
“Where do you go?” “To the frozen north.”

She gave a nod and went her way
With eyes that shone so brightly.
I went to school.—Who is she, pray?
Oh, can you tell me rightly?
I've puzzled all day long on it,
And lessons will not go a bit.

I 'll burst, my head 's in such a stir,
My thoughts are so unruly.
But, mother, think if Maia were
The maid of springtime truly!
Ah, come, my little Maia fair,
And peep in at the window there!