  The king had labored all an autumn day For his folk’s good, and welfare of the kirk, And now when eventide was well away, And deepest mirk Lay heavy on York town, he sat at meat, With his great councillors round him and his kin, And a blithe face was sat in every seat, And far within The hall was jubilant with banqueting, The tankards foaming high as they could hold Was served with gold. Then came to the king’s side the doorkeeper, And said, “The folk are thronging at the gate, And flaunt their rags and many plaints prefer, And through the grate “I see that many are ill-clad and lean, For fields are poor this year, and food hard-won.” And the good king made answer, “’Twere ill seen, And foully done, “Were I to feast while many starve without;” And he bade bear the most and best of all To give the folk; and lo, they raised a shout That shook the hall. And now lean fare for those at board was set, But came again the doorkeeper and cried,— “The folk still hail thee, sir, nor will they yet Be satisfied; “They say they have no surety for their lives, When winters bring hard nights and heatless suns, Nor bread nor raiment have they for their wives And little ones.” Then said the king, “It is not well that I Should eat from gold when many are so poor, Of that be sure.” And so he bade collect the golden plate, And all the tankards, and break up, and bear, And give them to the folk that thronged the gate, To each his share. And the great councillors in cold surprise Looked on and murmured; but unmindfully The king sat dreaming with far-fixÈd eyes, And it may be He saw some vision of that Holy One Who knew no rest or shelter for His head, When self was scorned and brotherhood begun. “’Tis just,” he said: “Henceforward wood shall serve me for my plate, And earthen cups suffice me for my mead; With them that joy or travail at my gate I laugh or bleed.” —Archibald Lampman. Heed how thou livest. Do no act by day Which from the night shall drive thy peace away. In months of sun so live that months of rain Shall still be happy. Evermore restrain Evil and cherish good; so shall there be Another and a happier life for thee.—Whittier. |
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