I met a girl with eyes of pearl while trekking
through the dell;
She looked at me: “Hello,” said she, “have
you a tale to tell?”
“I have,” I said, and spun my thread to let
my tale unfurl;
“One day,” said I, “I did espy a maid with
eyes of pearl.
“But unlike you, her dress was blue; her lips
a cardinal red;
And with a wail, ‘I have a tale to tell to
you,’ she said.
“She told me of a silver dove who had her
lover been,
His curse would break if she could make him
come to earth again.”
To my surprise, the girl with eyes of pearl
gave a yelp:
“I know the dove this maid did love, and
maybe I can help!
“Of all the birds, alone his words reflect
a human voice;
“And possibly he’ll fly to me, and we shall
all rejoice!”
“But tell me, why on earth,” said I, “would
he fly down for you?”
“He sings to me at night,” said she, “and
on the Sabbath too.
“Perhaps this maid does serenade her love
by light of day,
But only night provides the light to catch
him,” she did say.
So with a twirl, I took the girl across the
sunny dell,
And clear across the floor of moss which
I adored so well,
And we did roam into the home of that despondent
maid,
Whose lover’s plight had left her quite and
terribly afraid.
“I hear that you are feeling blue,” the happy
girl exclaimed.
“But I am here to quell your fear, and have
your lover tamed.”
“And who art thou, and tell me how you hope
to tame my love,
For I have tried for weeks,” she cried, “what
are you thinking of?”
The pearly miss, in utmost bliss, decided
then to sing.
Her mind awhirl, the other girl was taken
by the thing.
“My friend and I,” I said, “stopped by to
ease your sorrowed head.
“We’ve talked, you see. ‘He sings to
me at night,’ said she,” I said.
As they conversed, I sought the cursed in
yonder twilit sky,
When lo! I heard a silver bird as he came
winging by!
I thought he planned to swoop and land, but
as he had no choice,
He did begin to sorrow in a light and landless
voice.
“The sky, it is my earth!” was his lament
unto my ears.
“An endless sea, a death!” cried he, “the
birth of all my fears.”
“No hill or lake will ever make me come at
her command,
“Majestic oaks will never coax me from my
lonely land!”
“Fear not,” I said, “for I have led a singer
to your door,
“And she will sing, and hope to bring you
down--forevermore!
“With outstretched arm, her songs will charm
you from your perch above!”
“But on whose hand am I to land? The
singer, or my love?”
The question caught me deep in thought, for
what he said was true.
The singer’s verse might break the curse,
but what would be her due?
“If this is so, then do not go unto the singer’s
call!
“My hand is fine, so land on mine, or land
on none at all.”
The night had come, and shortly from the house
two maidens came,
One sang a song, robust and strong; the other
called his name.
The dove was stirred by all he heard, yet
dared not cross his love.
He turned his head to me instead, and settled
to my glove.
“What filth is this?” proclaimed the miss
whose love had flown to me.
“You cannot go! Stay here, my beau!”
But it was not to be.
“I wish I could, for you are good, and rare
and true and gay,
“But you will be an endless sea, until my
dying day.”
I left the two of pearly view, although it
made me ache,
For left unlured, I am assured his curse
will never break.
And so, as long as there is song, until he
meets his end,
I wear a dove upon my glove, and I his only
friend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~