THE RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET I WHERE'S your kingdom, little king? Through the blossom-world of May, Where's the realm that owns your sway, Far to northward lies a land, And the rowan-berries red There I'll build my dainty nest; II Back again, my little king! Houseless, homeless in October, 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. Wandering every fall and spring, With your painted crown so slender, And your talk of royal splendour Must I call you a Pretender, Landless king? Never king by right divine Ruled a richer realm than mine! |