The Prince of Whim

Borne on like a bubble
In bright little trouble
My elf child glimmers and goes;
As glad as a throstle
Whose tremolos jostle
The rain on the leaf of a rose.

He comes in a twinkling,
With never an inkling
That law is not one with his word;
But gives me good wages,
The penny of ages—
Love wild as the heart of a bird.

He laughs down my quiet,
This lord of the riot,
This Prince of the Kingdom of Whim;
The world is his castle,
And I am his vassal
To trumpet the triumphs of him!