May Magic

We three went out together — 
Margery, Maud, and I, 
In April's last soft weather,
Ere the May dawn drew nigh. 
We washed our faces in May-dew, 
And saw the moon fade in the blue 
Waste highlands of the sky. 

We maids went out a-Maying, 
To seek what we could find, 
And fairy pipes were playing
Before us and behind. 
We could not see the Pixy-folk, 
Nor hear the mocking words they spoke,
For blowing of the wind. 

Maud found a black lamb straying,
And took the sheepfold way, 
Margery went a-Maying 
Sullen, but came back gay, 
Because she found an amber comb. 
She took a fairy treasure home; 
I only brought home may. 

When in her yellow tresses 
The amber comb we see,
Wives curse, and no man blesses
This maid called Margery. 
Her beauty is a hunter's snare, 
Men's souls are netted in her hair
And cannot come forth tree. 

We three heard pixies blowing 
Their pipes; two of the three 
Can hear the long grass growing, 
The winter wind can see. 
Maud's in her grave, nor cares nor knows 
Whether the stray lamb comes or goes,
And I am as a folded rose 
Till a Pixy gather me.