Explore "The Encore" by Willa Cather on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
No garlands in the winter-time, / No trumpets in the night! / The song ye praise was done lang syne, / And was its own delight. / O' God's name take the wreath away, / Since now the music's sped; / Ye never cry, "Long live the king! " / Until the king is dead.
When I came piping through the land, / One morning in the spring, / With cockle-burrs upon my coat, / 'Twas then I was a king: / A mullein sceptre in my hand, / My order daisies three, / With song's first freshness on my lips -- / And then ye pitied me!