Poems (Piatt)/Volume 2/A Queen at Home
A QUEEN AT HOME.
They know that the world is mine (I am but a name to them,)And they fancy its jewels shine All over my garment's hem.
My face seems bright from afar To their loyal eyes and trust:But who looks too close at a star Will find it is made of dust.
My friend, you have whiter bread; My friend, you have redder wine,And a fairer roof for your head, Though beggar you be, than mine.
To the poor I give of my gold; By the wounded I watch at night;To the eyes of the dying I hold A cross—not mine own—for a light.
Yes, the world is mine, but I pray On my cloister floor alone;My hood and my cloak are grey, And my pillow is but a stone.