| |
| AT the king’s gate the subtle noon | |
| Wove filmy yellow nets of sun; | |
| Into the drowsy snare too soon | |
| The guards fell one by one. | |
| |
| Through the king’s gate, unquestioned then, | 5 |
| A beggar went, and laughed, “This brings | |
| Me chance at last, to see if men | |
| Fare better, being kings.” | |
| |
| The king sat bowed beneath his crown, | |
| Propping his face with listless hand, | 10 |
| Watching the hour-glass sifting down | |
| Too slow its shining sand. | |
| |
| “Poor man, what wouldst thou have of me?” | |
| The beggar turned, and, pitying, | |
| Replied like one in dream, “Of thee, | 15 |
| Nothing. I want the king.” | |
| |
| Uprose the king, and from his head | |
| Shook off the crown and threw it by. | |
| “O man, thou must have known,” he said, | |
| “A greater king than I.” | 20 |
| |
| Through all the gates, unquestioned then, | |
| Went king and beggar hand in hand. | |
| Whispered the king, “Shall I know when | |
| Before His throne I stand?” | |
| |
| The beggar laughed. Free winds in haste | 25 |
| Were wiping from the king’s hot brow | |
| The crimson lines the crown had traced. | |
| “This is his presence now.” | |
| |
| At the king’s gate, the crafty noon | |
| Unwove its yellow nets of sun; | 30 |
| Out of their sleep in terror soon | |
| The guards waked one by one. | |
| |
| “Ho here! Ho there! Has no man seen | |
| The king?” The cry ran to and fro; | |
| Beggar and king, they laughed, I ween, | 35 |
| The laugh that free men know. | |
| |
| On the king’s gate the moss grew gray; | |
| The king came not. They called him dead; | |
| And made his eldest son one day | |
| Slave in his father’s stead. | 40 |
| |
