Robert Browning (1812–1889)

A KING lived long ago,

In the morning of the world,

When Earth was nigher Heaven than now:

And the King’s locks curled

Disparting o’er a forehead full

As the milk-white space ’twixt horn and horn

Of some sacrificial bull.

Only calm as a babe new-born:

For he was got to a sleepy mood,

So safe from all decrepitude,

Age with its bane so sure gone by,

(The gods so loved him while he dreamed,)

That, having lived thus long, there seemed

No need the King should ever die.

Among the rocks his city was;

Before his palace, in the sun,

He sat to see his people pass,

And judge them every one

From its threshold of smooth stone.