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Her arms
across her breast she laid;
She was more fair than
words can say;
Barefooted came the beggar maid
Before the king Cophetua.
In robe and crown the
king stept down,
To meet and greet her on her way;
‘It is no wonder,’ said the lords,
‘She is more
beautiful than day.’
As shines the moon in
clouded skies,
She in her poor attire was seen;
One praised her ankles, one her eyes,
One her dark
hair and lovesome mien.
So sweet a face, such angel
grace,
In all that land had never been.
Cophetua
sware a royal oath:
‘This beggar maid shall be my
queen!’
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