KING Frederick, of Prussia, grew nervous and ill When pacing his chamber one day, Because of the sound of a crazy old mill That clattered so over the way. "Ho, miller!" cried he, "what sum shall you take In lieu of that wretched old shell? It angers my brain and it keeps me awake." Said the miller, "I want not to sell." "But you must," said the king, in a passion for once. "But I won't," said the man, in a heat. "Gods! this to my face? Ye are daft, or a dunce -- We can raze your old mill with the street." "Ay, true, my good sire, if such be your mood," Then answered the man with a grin; "But never you'll move it the tenth of a rood As long as a court's in Berlin." "Good, good," said the king, -- for the answer was grand, As opposing the Law to the Crown, -- "We bow to the court, and the mill shall stand, Though even the palace come down." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 17 by CONRAD AIKEN GUARDIANSHIP by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WAITING IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL by CLARENCE MAJOR JUNIUS BRUTUS BOOTH by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EDITH CONANT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |