III

O princess cease your dreams awhile And look adown your tower's gray side— The princess gazes far away, Nor hears nor heeds the words I cried.

Perchance my heart was overbold, God made her dreams too pure to break, She sees the angels in the air Fly to and fro for Mary's sake.

Farewell, I mount and go my way, —But oh her hair the sun sifts thro'— The tilts and tourneys wait my spear, I am the Knight of the Plume of Blue.