Foliage: Various Poems

POOR KINGS

     God's pity on poor kings,
         They know no gentle rest;
     The North and South cry out,
         Cries come from East and West—
     "Come, open this new Dock,
         Building, Bazaar or Fair."
     Lord, what a wretched life
         Such men must bear.

     They're followed, watched and spied,
         No liberty they know;
     Some eye will watch them still,
         No matter where they go.
     When in green lanes I muse,
         Alone, and hear birds sing,

         On some poor king.