Classic Poem

IN A PALACE .

Over the moorland the wind shrieketh drearily,
Ice-jewels glitter on heather and thorn;
Pale is the sunlight, that flashes out fitfully
Over a dome where an infant is born.

Fold silken robes round the little one carefully;
Lay him to rest on his pillows of down;
Watch o'er the sleep of that scion of royalty,
Born to inherit a scepter and crown.

Shut out the light, that the room may be shadowy;
Fold silken curtains around the proud bed;
Ladies in waiting, step softly and silently;
Let not a word in a whisper be said.

Joy in the palaces lighted so brilliantly;
Beauty and bravery are revelling there;
Wine, in the jewel-wrought goblets, foams daintily —
All things proclaim that the king has an heir.

Joy in the villages — church bells ring merrily,
Rockets are lighting the sky with their glare,
Bonfires are crackling, cannon are thundering,
Children are shouting " Long life to the heir. "

Down-trodden millions, go join in the revelry;
Go, in despite of the fetters you wear.
Vassals and beggars and paupers, right joyfully
Flutter your tatters — the throne has an heir.