All alone walks the king to-day,
(Hark to the thrush’s trilling,)
Far from the throne he steals away
Loneness and quiet willing.
Roses and tulips and lilies fair
Smile for his pleasure everywhere,
Yet of their joyaunce he takes no share,
(Hark to the thrush’s trilling.)
Ladies wait in the palace, Sire,
(Hark to the thrush’s trilling,)