THE QUEEN'S SONG

Had I the power

To Midas given of old

To touch a flower

And leave the petals gold

I then might touch thy face,

Delightful boy,

And leave a metal grace,

A graven joy.

Thus would I slay, -

Ah, desperate device!

The vital day

That trembles in thine eyes,

And let the red lips close

Which sang so well,

And drive away the rose

To leave a shell.

Then I myself,

Rising austere and dumb

On the hight shelf

Of my half-lighted room,

Would place the shining bust

And wait alone,

Until I was but dust,

Buried unknown.

Thus in my love

For nations yet unborn,

I would remove

From our two lives the morn,

And muse on loveliness

In mine armchair,

Content should Time confess

How sweet you were.