XXXIV.
Reading edition
I have a king who does not speak; So, wondering, thro' the hours meek I trudge the day away,— Half glad when it is night and sleep, If, haply, thro' a dream to peep In parlors shut by day.
And if I do, when morning comes, It is as if a hundred drums Did round my pillow roll, And shouts fill all my childish sky, And bells keep saying 'victory' From steeples in my soul!
And if I don't, the little Bird Within the Orchard is not heard, And I omit to pray, 'Father, thy will be done' to-day, For my will goes the other way, And it were perjury!