The King and the Peasant.
World-wide possessions, populous lands
The monarch doth inherit,
And lordlier kingdoms he commands,
Fair realms within the spirit.
The monarch had a little son,
A child of five years old,
The loveliest earth ere looked upon
And he is lying cold.
The king is in the olive grove,
A hind sings in the tree;
Below, the infant of his love
Is babbling merrily.
The father beats the boughs, and while
Dark oval olives fly,
The boy, with many a laugh and smile,
Pursues them far and nigh.
Blue sea between the grey-green leaves
Twinkles, and the sun
Through them a playful chequer weaves
Over the little one.
