I Have A King Who Does Not Speak; By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 I have a king who does not speak;
    So, wondering, thro’ the hours meek
    I trudge the day away,–
    Half glad when it is night and sleep,
    If, haply, thro’ a dream to peep
    In parlors shut by day.

    And if I do, when morning comes,
    It is as if a hundred drums
    Did round my pillow roll,
    And shouts fill all my childish sky,
    And bells keep saying ‘victory’
    From steeples in my soul!

    And if I don’t, the little Bird
    Within the Orchard is not heard,
    And I omit to pray,
    ‘Father, thy will be done’ to-day,
    For my will goes the other way,
    And it were perjury!