THE KING

LAURA GERAHTY.

O THE glare and the glamor, the noise and rush,
The hurrying reckless speed.
The eager crowds that strain and push
At the heels of the prancing steed!
Wherefore this wild expectancy?
See. 'tis the king who passes by!

The flags unfurl and the banners fly.
And the clamor of fife and drum
Has drowned all speech, and the vendor's cry
Is lost in the city's hum!
And glad are the people's hearts the while
The king goes by with gracious smile.

The king has passed—and the city sleeps
Like a giant stretched at ease;
Through murky clouds the pale moon peeps,
And the lonely watcher sees
Only the dust of a garish day.
When king and pageant passed that way!