A POOR old king, with sorrow for my crown, Throned upon straw, and mantled with the wind -- For pity, my own tears have made me blind That I might never see my children's frown; And, may be, Madness, like a friend, has thrown A folded fillet over my dark mind, So that unkindly speech may sound for kind -- Albeit I know not. -- I am childish grown -- And have not gold to purchase wit withal -- I that have once maintain'd most royal state -- A very bankrupt now that may not call My child my child -- all beggar'd save in tears, Wherewith I daily weep an old man's fate, Foolish -- and blind -- and overcome with years! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEREDITY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A FOREST HYMN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY by ROBERT BURNS THE STENOGRAPHERS by PATRICIA KATHLEEN PAGE A MOUNTAIN SOUL (KATHARINE COMAN) by KATHARINE LEE BATES A WINTER DAY by ALBERT LINDLEY BEANE A SPRING SONG by MATHILDE BLIND CITY SMOKE by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN A RHPASODY; WRITTEN AT THE LAKES IN WESTMORLAND by JOHN BROWN (1715-1766) |