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THE KINGDOM OF SHADOWS
THE KINGDOM OF SHADOWS
A crownless king who reigns alone,I live within this ashen land,Where winds rebuild from wandering sandMy columns and my crumbled throne.
My sway is on the men that were,And wan sweet women, dear and dead;Beside a marble queen, my bedIs made within the sepulchre.
In gardens desolate to the sun,Faring alone, I sigh to findThe dusty closes, dim and blind,Where winter and the spring are one.
My shadowy visage, grey with grief,In sunken waters walled with sand,I see,—where all mine ancient landLies yellow like an autumn leaf.
My silver lutes of subtle stringAre rust,—but on the grievous breeze,I hear what sobbing memories,And muted sorrows murmuring!
Across the broken monuments,Memorial of the dreams of old,The sunset flings a ghostly goldTo mock mine ancient affluence.
About the tombs of stone and brassThe silver lights of evening flee;And slowly now, and solemnly,I see the pomp of shadows pass.
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