Poems with rhymes of Kings

No tawdry rule of kings,
But toil of serf and sweeper --
The tale of common things.

Rising and falling with your wings:
We both together sweetly live and love,
Yet say sometimes, "God help poor Kings".

for the gift that mary brings
to the empty manger of our
hearts- the eternal king of kings

The music and the mirth of kings
Are all but very discords, when she sings;

Face bravely what each God-sent moment brings.
Above thee rules in love, through weal and woe,
Guiding thy kings and thee, the King of kings.

O Cupid ! Monarch ouer Kings,
Wherefore hast thou feete and wings?

Come not in terrors, as the King of kings;
But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings,

To admire the crumblyh castles and the statues and kings
But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things.

Awake, my ST. JOHN!(1) leave all meaner things
To low ambition, and the pride of Kings.

You sang not deeds of heroes or of kings;
No chant of bloody war, no exulting pean
Of arms-won triumphs; but your humble strings

Scarce have they fished aboard these airy kings
When helpless on such unaccustomed floors,
They piteously droop their huge white wings

Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things
To low ambition, and the pride of kings.

There are lots and lots of people who are always asking things,
Like Dates and Pounds-and-ounces and the names of funny Kings,

Over self to reign as kings,
And as priests, His solemn praises
Each for a thank-offering brings.

``Wherewith men buy what crafty barter brings,-
Greater the gain, more hazardous the risks,-
Toil from the many, coronets from Kings,

The world is so full of a number of things,
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.

The gifts of kings
Are fleeting things--

Upon a ghostly paradigm of things;
Solider Aristotle played the taws
Upon the bottom of a king of kings;

Now as those Active Kings
Whose foreign conquest treasure brings,

Approved their method in all other things;
But where, good sir, do you confine your kings?