A Century of Roundels
A NINTH BIRTHDAY

Algernon C

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FEBRUARY 4, 1883

I.

Three times thrice hath winter's rough white wing

Crossed and curdled wells and streams with ice

Since his birth whose praises love would sing

Three times thrice.

Earth nor sea bears flower nor pearl of price

Fit to crown the forehead of my king,

Honey meet to please him, balm, nor spice.

Love can think of nought but love to bring

Fit to serve or do him sacrifice

Ere his eyes have looked upon the spring

Three times thrice.

II.

Three times thrice the world has fallen on slumber,

Shone and waned and withered in a trice,

Frost has fettered Thames and Tyne and Humber

Three times thrice,

Fogs have swoln too thick for steel to slice,

Cloud and mud have soiled with grime and umber

Earth and heaven, defaced as souls with vice,

Winds have risen to wreck, snows fallen to cumber,

Ships and chariots, trapped like rats or mice,

Since my king first smiled, whose years now number

Three times thrice.

III.

Three times thrice, in wine of song full-flowing,

Pledge, my heart, the child whose eyes suffice,

Once beheld, to set thy joy-bells going

Three times thrice.

Not the lands of palm and date and rice

Glow more bright when summer leaves them glowing,

Laugh more light when suns and winds entice.

Noon and eve and midnight and cock-crowing,

Child whose love makes life as paradise,

Love should sound your praise with clarions blowing

Three times thrice.

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