THE KING AND THE MAID

"O love"—cried the King On a day in spring, As he went through the leafy wood— "I must be away To the court this day!" And he threw back the purple hood From his royal brow That was paling now With the pain of the parting hour: For the maid was dear, And her lips were near To his lips, like a crimson flower.

"I shall be alone On a gilded throne In the midst of my nobles all; From my diadem To my garment's hem, I shall ache for your light footfall: 'Tis no little thing, Dear, to be a king With love of a man for a maid, And to play the part With an empty heart, Like a scabbard without its blade."

But the maid was wise, And her hazel eyes Were brave with the light of her love: "God save thee, my King, From great suffering, Grant thee of His grace from above! Canst thou play thy part With an empty heart, If I fill it full to the brim Of the wine of prayer From the bowl I bear?" And his eyes with the tears were dim!

"On that ivory throne Shalt thou be alone, If my thoughts are a-wing to thee; If upon thy brow That is paling now, My lips mark where the crown shall be?" So the King rode south From her crimson mouth Through the forest, field and the fells; And his voice was strong With words of a song To a chime of the bridle-bells.