14
A LITTLE CHILD'S MONUMENT.
The monarch gazes all unseen,
Tears burning his wan eyes;
Tenderly his love doth lean
To bless their Paradise,
As through black bars that foul the day,
And shut him out from joy:
Hear the world-envied monarch say,
"Perish, my bauble crown, my toy,
All the science, all the sway,
Power to mould the world my way,
Persuade to beauty the dull clay!
Take all; but leave, ah! leave my boy,
Give me back my life, my joy!
This poor rude peasant I would be,
Yet dare not breathe the wish that he
Were as I am, a king, of misery!"
