Lost Prince                                       

 

A changeling, raised by peasants, born a king:

Or were these so-called parents royal too,

And he the exiled heir to everything

In sunken sovereignties, where the slack sea drew

His name in coral through ancestral tombs

And then, tormented, racing washed it out?

Did not the mill-pond where he gazed show rooms

Of watered silk that led, by round about

Palatial distances, to ivory throne

And long-charmed silence of still-waiting court?

No wonder he must always be alone,

Unrecognized because of false report

That he had perished in his parents’ fall.

No wonder he, pretending, had to fail.