I laid aside Companionship for crimson Cloth-of-Pose,
And stuck a blind man’s spectacles upon my foolish nose,
And found a little whisky-flask of Irony or two—
And we played up to each other as we’d seen our elders do!
We were Prince and sapphire Princess—though the jewels hurt your throat;
We were haughtier than Pharaohs—and I sweltered in my coat;
So we dared not shirk the ending, for our very ruffles’ sake!
—Though a bad dream’s ice to choke you if your clothes won’t let you wake!
So, the Tragic Crown weighs heavy on that summer-shining head,
And—the scarlet of my doublet drips the wet where I have bled—