Dagonet Makes a Song for the Queen

by: J. Corson Miller (Author)

from: Cup of the Years (Pp. 66 - 67)  1934

Gray wings for life, gold wings for death, and the black
        cloud circles the moon,
Rose-flesh and weeds for the Reaper's knife, as the pretty
        worm works in June.
     The slinking dog-fox hunts his hole--
     Let the blind be blind, with the bat and the mole,
Sing hey diddle diddle, sing hi diddle diddle to the
        merry-legged prince of pain!

White lips for love, red lips for hate, and the crows
        caw loud in the sun.
The sweet days sour, in the emerald pools the swans die,
        one by one.
     'Though knaves be fools for a flippant hour,
     And the gods turn geese on a toppling tower,
Sing hey diddle diddle, sing hi diddle diddle, while the
        rats play tag in the grain!

Hot sins for youth, cold psalms for age, and the apples
        laugh in the breeze.
Dear Eve took a dare, but Adam--beware! he swallowed
        the fruit to the lees.
     Love's nourished on loss--'tisn't bought or sold--
     Just a treacherous toy for kings grown old--
Sing hey diddle diddle, sing hi diddle diddle for the
        dead that live though slain!

Blue silk for clowns, black wool for queens, and the war-
        snake hides in the grass.
The world's an ocean of wine and of blood, where
        thrones and gold-fish pass.
     On the heart's slack drum time beats tum, tum,
     As the brain parades with delirium--
Sing hey diddle diddle, sing hi diddle diddle, in the
        sun and the wind and the rain!