Classic Poem

When the Kings come to royal hunting-seats
To find the royal joys of summer days,
The servants on the lofty watch tower raise
A banner, whose swift token warning greets
The country. Threatening stern, and armed man meets
Each stranger, who, by pleasant forest-ways,
All unawares, has rambled till he strays
Too close to paths where, in the noonday heats,
The King, uncrowned, lies down to sleep. Such law
As this the human soul sets heart and face
And hand, when once its King has come. In awe,
And gladness too, all men behold what grace
Such royal presence to the eye can bring,
And how the heart and hand can guard their King.