By the Turret Stair

Run, run, little page, tell your lady fair
That her lover waits by the turret stair,
That the stars are out, and the night wind blows
Up the garden path from the crimson rose!
Run, run, little page!

Haste, haste, little page, ere the round moon's rim
Peeps over the edge of the forest dim,
And the wolf-hound bays from his kennel deep,
And the warder peers from the castle keep!
Haste, haste, little page!

Soft, soft, little page, lest her sire may guess,
By her look of fear and of fond distress,
That he hides in the night by the turret stair
Who would steal from her bower the flower so fair!
Soft, soft, little page!

List, list, little page! Did the night-jar cry,
Or was it the low wind murmuring by?
And was there the sound of a faint footfall
Far away in the depths of the vaulted hall?
List, list, little page!

See, see, little page, who, clad in white,
Steals out of the door in the shadowy light!
Is't an angel? aye, 'tis my lady fair,
And she speeds to her love down the turret stair!
See, see, little page!

Farewell, little page, for away, away,
Through the gloom of night to the bloom of day,
My lady sweet and I must fare
Till we reach the foot of my turret stair!
Farewell, little page!