Grief wi' glee, Yet had nae niggart sympathy Where Sorrow bowed

[Silcox <imp...@br...>]

Sic that may vex the high repose Of a heart that fades and crumbles as
the crimson of a rose. _The King_ They rode right out of the morning
sun-- A glimmering, glittering cavalcade Of knights and ladies and every
one In princely sheen arrayed; And the king of them all, O he rode
ahead, With a helmet of gold, and a plume of red That spurted about in
the breeze and bled In the bloom of the everglade. And they rode high
over the dewy lawn, With brave, glad banners of every hue That rolled in
ripples, as they rode on In splendor, two and two; And the tinkling
links of the golden reins Of the steeds they rode rang such refrains As
the castanets in a dream of Spain's Intensest gold and blue. And they
rode and rode; and the steeds they neighed And pranced, and the sun on
their glossy hides Flickered and lightened and glanced and pl