In each morning twilight
Before the blush of daylight
Gardeners assemble
At the Iron Gate
The Boy stood in their company
And slipped within silently
When one of their number
Was shamefully late
The Boy slipped in among their throng
Learned their trade and e'er long
Was counted member of the Staff
That daily walked the Garden Path
Quickly pass the days and weeks
The Boy resourceful as he seeks
Among the flowers and the trees
Encounters with Fair Eloise
In the Rosy Bower
A bright and happy hour
On the Lawn of Camomile
Oh to see her hidden smile
Then amid the Herbs
Conversation that disturbs
Finally today
A declaration to dismay
She kissed the Boy and cried
She wrung her hands and sighed
She clasped her hands as if to pray
Then sobbed and turned away
'Though you call me beautiful
Yet I must be dutiful
Though I love you come what may
Yet I must be Queen someday'
The Boy lay on his humble bed
Recalling misery and joy
What brave dreams had filled the head
Of our lowly foundling Boy
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