Sara Teasdale

I wear a crown invisible and clear,
   And go my lifted royal way apart
   Since you have crowned me softly in your heart
With love that is half ardent, half austere;
And as a queen disguised might pass anear
   The bitter crowd that barters in a mart,
   Veiling her pride while tears of pity start,
I hide my glory thru a jealous fear.
My crown shall stay a sweet and secret thing
   Kept pure with prayer at evensong and morn,
   And when you come to take it from my head,
   I shall not weep, nor will a word be said,
But I shall kneel before you, oh my king,
   And bind my brow forever with a thorn.

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