Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/320

 With one man's hate. I'm glad you're not a fool, For then you might be rickety, as I am, And rational as Bedivere. Farewell. I'll sit here and be king. God save the King!" But Gawaine scowled and frowned and answered nothing As he went slowly down with Bedivere To Camelot, where Arthur's army waited The King's word for the melancholy march To Joyous Gard, where Lancelot hid the Queen And armed his host, and there was now no joy, As there was now no joy for Dagonet While he sat brooding, with his wan cheek-bones Hooked with his bony fingers: "Go, Gawaine," He mumbled: "Go your way, and drag the world Along down with you. What's a world or so To you if you can hide an ell of iron Somewhere in Lancelot, and hear him wheeze And sputter once or twice before he goes Wherever the Queen sends him? There's a man Who should have been a king, and would have been, Had he been born so. So should I have been A king, had I been born so, fool or no : King Dagonet, or Dagonet the King; King-Fool, Fool-King; 'twere not impossible. I'll meditate on that and pray for Arthur, Who made me all I am, except a fool. Now he goes mad for love, as I might go Had I been born a king and not a fool. Today I think I'd rather be a fool; Today the world is less than one scared woman Wherefore a field of waving men may soon Be shorn by Time's indifferent scythe, because The King is mad. The seeds of history Are small, but given a few gouts of warm blood