~Two Crowns~
The young King rode through the City street,
Glad was his heart and bright his face,
Hushed were the crowd's exultant cries,
Grave were the eyes above, and sad,
Slowly the young King homeward rode
~Norah M. Holland~
So gallant, gay and bold;
There were roses strewn 'neath his horse's feet,
His brows were bound with gold,
And his heart was glad for his people's cheers
Along his pathway rolled.
For life and youth were fair;
And he rode through many a pleasant place
Broad street and sunny square
Till he came to the market-place and saw
A crucifix stand there.
To awe-struck silence grown;
For they saw the young King's laughing eyes
Grow grave beneath his crown,
As the crownéd King looked up, for lo!
A crownéd King looked down.
The face with pain was lined,
And the piercéd hands no sceptre had;
Both brows a crown did bind.
But the earthly King was crowned with gold
The Christ with thorns entwined.
In awe and wondering;
He had looked that day on the face of God,
And learned that for a king
The lordliest crown his brows can bear
Is the crown of suffering.
