The Dancing King

We pause and judge Upon the reigning queen Who looks like a ghost Upon the money most People would agree Oh the soulless dance Upon the English dew Across the green fields A procession grows We are the out-of-time People of the rose, sing We are the out-of-time People of the rose The nightingale rejoices The hour disapproves The morning unrequited The moon my heart did choose Now the dancing king is the sun.