Where and how shall I earliest meet her?
What are the words she first will say?
By what name shall I learn to greet her?
I know not now, but 'twill come some day,
With the self-same sunlight shining apon her,
Streaming down on her ringlet's sheen;
She is standing somewhere, she I would honor,
She that I wait for, my queen, my queen.
I will not dream of her tall and stately,
She that I love may be fairy light,
I will not say she should walk sedately,
Whatever she does it will sure be right.
And she may be humble or proud, my lady,
Or that sweet calm that is just between;
But whenever she comes she will find me ready
To do her homage, my queen, my queen!
But whenever, she comes she will find me ready
To do her homage, my queen, my queen, my queen!
But she must be courteous, she must be holy,
Pure in her spirit, that maiden I love.
Whether her birth be noble or lowly,
I care no more than the spirit above.
And I'll give my heart to my lady's keeping,
And ever her Strength on mine shall lean,
And the stars shall fall, and the angels be weeping,
Ere I cease to love her, ere I cease to love her,
Ere I cease to love her, my queen, my queen,
Ere I cease to love her, to love her, my queen!
Ah! my queen!