Poems and Verses
LE ROI EST MORT.
A nation’s soul had hung with bated breath
Upon two fateful words: ’Twas Life or Death.
The King is dead!
Low lies that royal head; Death’s seal is pressed on that cold marble brow,
Free from all sorrow now. He is at rest:
The King is dead!
And she, whom he adored, is stricken low;
Nor tears, nor loving words, avail him now.
The King is dead!
Swifter than morning lights his soul hath
Winged its flight beyond the stars.
The King is dead!
Earth’s nations bow the head in mutest grief
For this: The Royal dead who sleeps beneath yon pall.
The King is dead!