The Dancing King

We pause and judge upon the reigning queen

Who looks like a ghost upon the money most

People would agree

Oh, the soulless dance upon the English dew

Across the green fields a procession grows

We are the out-of-time people of the rose, sing

We are the out-of-time people of the rose

The nightingale rejoices

The hour disapproves, the morning unrequited

The moon my heart did choose

Now the dancing king is the sun