THE BALLAD OF THE FAIR MAID

There was a maid in days of yore, who had a beauty fair,
Her eyes were like a lake of purest sapphire blue,
Her skin was softer than the breast of the turtle dove,
A flowing river of purest gold was the maidens hair.

She walked in quiet untrodden ways, with very few to see
This wonderful creation of beauty in pure simplicity.
Like some unseen flower so beautiful and precious
But it lives and dies without it's grace being seen.

So it was with this maiden, so lovely and so fair.
Till one day came riding a young nobleman from afar,
He gazed at this beauty, unblemished and pure,
In all the world he had not found beauty to compare.

She was running through the fields, barefoot and free,
Her hair lifted by the sweet summer breeze that blew
And put priceless roses blushing on her pretty cheek,
Her eyes sparkling with life, as happy as she could be.

At last she saw him standing there by his tired horse,
She curtsied low and bowed her head,"I've lost my way" he said.
She led him to her father home deep sheltered in the wood,
She fed him, how long he was there he didn't count

He marvelled as she moved with such grace and such care,
That hidden from anyones view lived this maid
So fair that it took his heart right away, he longed
To feel her soft skin and run his fingers through her hair.

She shyly glanced into his eyes and felt of his desire
And knew not the feeling that in her heart did flow.
He was tall and handsome and dressed in fine clothes.
She also felt a longing for his touch, like a warm fire.

He touched her hand so gently, and thanked her for the care
That she had shown to him,"How can I ever repay you" he said.
The father showed the path to take to the castle proud,
"She can show you the edge of the wood, you will find it there"
They wandered along the winding path to the edge of the wood,
They spoke no word just held hands,the horse followed behind.
"I'll bring you a dress of silk and silver shoes" he said.
She thought of the dress and silver shoes, not ones made of wood

Each day she waited by the road to see if he would come again,
Not just for the dress of silk, nor for the silver shoes,
For their was pain within her heart she could not understand.
She longed to see his face again, that would ease the pain.

He did not come in the summer, or in autumns pleasant days,
He did not come in the winter, with it's cold icy snow.
The glow had gone from both eye and cheek, she was always sad
And at the beginning of spring, she passed from mortal gaze.

He came in the summer, with silk dress and silver shoes.
The father told of her passing, and of a grave near by.
He sadly took the gifts and laid them on the grave
Then wandered back to his castle with a slower step.

Some people will tell you that a maiden truly fair
Will wander in the moonlight with long golden hair.
She has on her feet two silver shoes, and a dress of silk
And will wait by the road side to see her lover there.

Ann Margetson
April 27 1995


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