K For Kings

Love's touch is soft, and death

Is gentle, when he takes

A sleeping child's light breath,

Before it wakes;

But neither Death nor Love

Moves softer than I move.

Great is my ecstasy,

Till generous I

For common pence have sold

The world my purest gold.

No man that's blind

Has ears more quick to hear;

No man that's deaf and dumb

Has eyes more sharp and clear.

No wonder then that kings,

Envying the man who sings,

Aspire to wear his crown,

And scorn their own;

No wonder kings aspire

For crowns not made of gold,

Which-though time's born a thief-

Escape his hold.

Two kings have won-

David and Solomon.