CAKE AND SACK

By Walter de la Mare

Old King Caraway

Supped on cake,

And a cup of sack

His thirst to slake;

Bird in arras

And hound in hall

Watched very softly

Or not at all;

Fire in the middle,

Stone all round

Changed not, heeded not,

Made no sound;

All by himself

At the Table High

He'd nibble and sip

While his dreams slipped by;

And when he had finished,

He'd nod and say,

‘ Cake and sack

For King Caraway!’