The doors are open'd free,
And through the gate like sunshine streams
A maiden company:--
One girdled with the vervain-red,
And three in sendal gray,
And touch the trembling rebeck-strings
To their soft roundelay;--

--The bravest knight may fail in fight;
The red rust edge the sword;
The king his crown in dust lay down;
But Love is always Lord!

King Henry at her feet flings down,
His helmet ringing loudly:--
His kisses worship Edith's hand;
'Wilt thou be Queen of all the land?'
--O red she blush'd and proudly!
Red as the crimson girdle bound
Beneath her gracious breast;
Red as the silken scarf that flames
Above his lion-crest.
She lifts and casts the cloister-veil
All on the cloister-floor:--
The novice maids of Romsey smile,
And think of love once more.

'Well, well, to blush!' the Abbess cried,
'The veil and vow deriding
That rescued thee, in baby days,