THE COURT OF THE PROFANE. 
39 
 
 
 
 
THE MAY QUEEN. 
 
(OLD STYLE) 
 
 
T is summer and sun on the sea, 
 The twilight is drawn to the world : 
We linger and laugh on the lea, 
The light of my spirit with me, 
 Sharp limbs in close agony curled. 
 
The noise of the music of sleep, 
 The breath of the wings of the night, 
The song of the magical deep, 
The sighs of the spirits that weep, 
 Make murmur to tune our delight. 
 
Slow feet are our measures that move ; 
 Swift songs are more soft than the breeze ; 
Our mouths are made mute for our love ; 
Our eyes are made soft as the dove ; 
 We mingle and move as the seas. 
 
The light of the passionate dawn 
 That kissed us, and would not awaken, 
Grew golden and bold on the lawn, 
The rays of the sun are withdrawn 
 At last, and the blossoms are shaken. 
  I