Page:Poems Jackson.djvu/147

The king sat bowed beneath his crown,
 Propping his face with listless hand;
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,
 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."

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
 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;
Out of their sleep in terror soon
 The guards waked one by one.