Who would be a king
That can sit in the sun and sing?
Nay, I have a kingdom of mine own.
A fallen oak-tree is my throne.
_Then, pluck the strings, and tell me true
If Caesar in his glory knew
The worlds he lost in sun and dew._
Who would be a queen
That sees what my love hath seen?--
The blood of little children shed
To make one royal ruby red!
_Then, tell me, music, why the great
For quarrelling trumpets abdicate
This quick, this absolute estate._
Nay, who would sing in heaven,
Among the choral Seven
That hears--as Love and I have heard,
The whole sky listening to one bird?
_And where's the ruby, tell me where,
Whose crimsons for one breath compare
With this wild rose that all may share?_