THE KING RODE BY
Oh, a King came riding last spring, last spring,
By the wall where the moss cups blow;
By the short green fields and the long hop poles,
Where the scarlet bean-flowers grow.
A King came riding out of the haze
Of the grey old town below.
By the wall where the moss cups blow;
By the short green fields and the long hop poles,
Where the scarlet bean-flowers grow.
A King came riding out of the haze
Of the grey old town below.
A King came riding in summer days:
Pallid roses on lawns of dream,
Bulrush-browns by the sunny banks
Of the low, sun-smitten stream;
And the broken peace of the pebbled ford
Caught a jewelled feather's gleam.
Pallid roses on lawns of dream,
Bulrush-browns by the sunny banks
Of the low, sun-smitten stream;
And the broken peace of the pebbled ford
Caught a jewelled feather's gleam.
For a King goes grandly in purple coat,
Pearl-sewn sleeve, and a dagger hilt,
Diamond-dappled, with dust of stars,
Rubies over the metal spilt.
And when a King in his pride rides by,
Roses languish and poppies wilt.
Pearl-sewn sleeve, and a dagger hilt,
Diamond-dappled, with dust of stars,
Rubies over the metal spilt.
And when a King in his pride rides by,
Roses languish and poppies wilt.
The King has buskins of leather fine,
He rides for pleasure, and casts his greaves;
The King has eyes that are quick as fire
To find a dormer among the eaves.
And on the boards that were clean and white
The print of a heel he leaves,
He rides for pleasure, and casts his greaves;
The King has eyes that are quick as fire
To find a dormer among the eaves.
And on the boards that were clean and white
The print of a heel he leaves,
