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THE ROYAL BEGGAR.
O marvel strange! outside the palace doors,And begging humbly from the palace stores,
He stands and waits; and when a paltry crust
Is flung, he stoops and picks it from the dust,
And, smiling through his tears, clasps to his breast
The niggard boon; and, for the moment blest
And fed, is grateful, though the ruby wine
And milk and honey which, by right divine,
Are his, his only, and the crown of gold
God wrought for him, are to his rightful hold
Refused!
Ah Love, dear Love, nowhere on earth
Wanders uncrowned thy peer of royal birth!
Ah Love, great Love! Denied, thrust out in vain,
Kingly, though beggared! Blest through all the pain!
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