Classic Poem

I SING no longer of the skies,
— And the swift clouds like driven ships,
For there is earth upon my eyes
— And earth between my singing lips.
Because the King loved not my song
— That he had found so sweet before,
I lie at peace the whole night long,
— And sing no more.

The King liked well my song that night;
— Upon the palace roof he lay
With his fair Queen, and as I might
— I sang, until the morning's gray
Crept o'er their faces, and the King,
— Mocked by the breaking dawn above,
Clutched at his youth and bade me sing
— A song of love.

Well it might be — the King was old,
— And though his Queen was passing fair,
His dull eyes might not catch the gold
— That tangled in her wayward hair,
It had been much to see her smile,
— But with my song I made her weep.
Our heavens last but a little while,
— So now I sleep.

More than the pleasures that I had
— I would have flung away to know
My song of love could make her sad,
— Her sweet eyes fill and tremble so.
What were my paltry store of years,
— My body's wretched life to stake,
Against the treasure of her tears,
— For my love's sake?

Not lightly is a King made wise;
— My body ached beneath his whips,
And there is earth upon my eyes,
— And earth between my singing lips.
But I sang once — and for that grace
— I am content to lie and store
The vision of her dear, wet face,
— And sing no more.