THE RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET I WHERE 'S your kingdom, little king? Where's the land you call your own, Where's your palace, and your throne ? Fluttering lightly on the wing Through the blossom-world of May, Little king? Far to northward lies a land, And the rowan-berries red II Back again, my little king ! Is your happy kingdom lost To that rebel knave, Jack Frost? Autumn is a rude disrober: Exiled king! Far to southward lie the regions Hold possession of the year, Little boaster, vagrant king! Neither north nor south is yours : You've no kingdom that endures. With your painted crown so slender, Landless king ? Never king by right divine |