Page:The Hundred Best Poems (lyrical) in the English language - second series.djvu/97

 "After us the deluge," was retorted with a laugh: "If bread's the staff of life they must walk without a staff." "While I've a loaf they're welcome to my blessing and the chaff."

These passed. "The king:" stand up. Said my father with a smile: "Daughter mine, your mother comes to sit with you awhile; She's sad to-day, and who but you her sadness can beguile?"

He too left me. Shall I touch my harp now while I wait,— (I hear them doubling guard below before our palace gate)— Or shall I work the last gold stitch into my veil of state;

Or shall my woman stand and read some unimpassioned scene,— There's music of a lulling sort in words that pause between; Or shall she merely fan me while I wait here for the queen?

Again I caught my father's voice in sharp word of command: "Charge" a clash of steel: "Charge again, the rebels stand. Smite and spare not, hand to hand; smite and spare not, hand to hand." 75