A little princess long ago
By her father's charger stood,
To bid Godspeed as he rode away
To the court in the fairy wood.
"And what shall I bring you, my Sweet?" he cried,
"Jewels or silken weaves?"
But she shook her head and plead with him,
"Oh, bring me the singing leaves!"
And I too stand at my Father's foot,
While he my behest receives:
"No fairing give from the gala world,
But only the singing leaves."
