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Yet,—ah's me!—I dare to say
That I could not earn my way
To the palace of the King.
I was a miner—doomed
With a fate branded at birth
To serve the King entombed
In this dungeon of the Earth:
They gave me a thing called Hope,
A word written in gold
On a talent—precious I'm told;
But, if I am to grope
All my life long in a mine,
What were the use at best
Of a bauble just to shine
And dangle at my breast?
So I sing, so I sing
Here's a jewel for the King!—
Let me clear it of the rust;
Wrap the gold thing in gold dust:
