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, God's pity then, say I, On some poor king. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DIVINE IMAGE, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE I HEAR AMERICA SINGING by WALT WHITMAN THE LAST CAESAR, 1851-1870 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH IMITATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE by JOHN ARMSTRONG |