The King's Memento Mori

INTO the regal face the risen sun
Laughed, and he whispered in dismay,
“ How is it, victor of a world, that none
Remind you what you are, to-day?

“ Your sword shall teach the slave, who could forget
That men are mortal, what they are!
How dared he sleep — he has not warned me yet —
After that last, loath, lagging star ! ”

Across his palace threshold, wan and still,
His morning herald, wet with dew,
Stared at him with fixed eyes that well might chill
The vanity of vanity all through!

“ Good-morrow, King,” he heard the dead lips say;
“ See what is man. When did I tell
My bitter message to my lord, I pray,
So reverently and so well?”