From The Porch At Runnymede
I stand above the city's rush and din,
[Pg 276]And gaze far down with calm and undimmed eyes,
To where the misty smoke wreath grey and dim
Above the myriad roofs and spires rise;
Still is my heart and vacant is my breath—
This lovely view is breath and life to me,
Why I could charm the icy soul of death
With such a sight as this I stand and see.
I hear no sound of labor's din or stir,
I feel no weight of worldly cares or fears,
Sweet song of birds, of wings the soothing whirr,
These sounds alone assail my listening ears.
Unwhipt of conscience here I stand alone,
The breezes humbly kiss my garment's hem;
I am a king—the whole world is my throne,
The blue grey sky my royal diadem.