"The gold of the world it comes and goes,
Baby sleep! Baby sleep!
But thou wilt bloom like a summer rose,
Cease my soul to weep."




THE MAGIC TEARS


There was once a king named Theophile who lived in a dim castle on the
edge of the ocean, but so far above the water that the flying spray never
reached its lowest terrace; and only the strongest-winged seagulls could
circle its towers and turrets. It was a strange, melancholy, beautiful
place, where the light shimmered on the walls like the ripple of water,
and in the shadows of the massive walls the flowers waved all day in the
sea-wind like little princesses who would dance before they died.

King Theophile had led many armies to victory, driving his golden
white-sailed boats upon far-off coasts, but from each conquest he
returned the sadder because he had made many people hate him, and had won
no one's love. Nor could he find a woman who would wed him, because of
the sorrows of his line, which were great.

When he was not at war he would labor for his kingdom until sunset, and
at that hour he would leave his Council Chamber to pace the terraces and
gaze seaward over the rocking blue-green waves, while his minstrels sang
to him. Only music could drive away his care, so always a page with a
golden harp followed him. Sometimes he would bid everyone be gone but