him stood,
Wagged all their heads in concert and smiled as
courtiers should.

The gray lark sings o'er Vordingborg, and on the
ancient town
From the tall tower of Valdemar the Golden Goose
looks down;
The yellow grain is waving in the pleasant wind of
morn,
The wood resounds with cry of hounds and blare
of hunter's horn.

In the garden of her father little Elsie sits and
spins,
And, singing with the early birds, her daily task,
begins.
Gay tulips bloom and sweet mint curls around her
garden-bower,
But she is sweeter than the mint and fairer than
the flower.

About her form her kirtle blue clings lovingly, and,
white
As snow, her loose sleeves only leave her small,
round wrists in sight;
Below, the modest petticoat can only half conceal
The motion of the lightest foot that ever turned a
wheel.