Painting of lady feeding a deer with castle in the background

A skylark is singing, the day is still young.

In the castle, the morning prayers have been sung.

Unknown to her father, who thinks her sleeping late,

A young maiden rises and slips through the gate.

Her skirt and her hair are blown in the breeze

As she walks down the hill to the line of the trees.

Down through the woodland, out past the mills

To the rise from where she can see the distant hills.

Sitting down on the grass, she gazes to the west

And thinks of a young man, forth on his quest.

For his health and his safety she worries and fears,

She longs for his touch, and her eyes fill with tears.

She calls to an eagle, soaring above,

As if on its wings to send him her love.

Then from out of the forest comes a wild deer.

It bounds up to her outstretched hand without fear.

‘Don’t worry,’ its shining eyes seem to say

‘Your prince will come home, don’t fret for that day.’