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.