POEMS. 49

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XXXIV.

T HAVE a king who does not speak ;

• So, wondering, thro' the hours meek

I trudge the day away, Half glad when it is night and sleep, If, haply, thro' a dream to peep

In parlors shut by day.

And if I do, when morning comes, It is as if a hundred drums

Did round my pillow roll, And shouts fill all my childish sky, And bells keep saying ' victory '

From steeples in my soul !

And if I don't, the little Bird Within the Orchard is not heard,

And I omit to pray, ' Father, thy will be done ' to-day, For my will goes the other way,

And it were perjury ! 4

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