WHEN in Bohemia there were kings and queens,

The crown was laid upon the head that had

To bear and to exalt it—on the King's,

And then upon the shoulder of the Queen.

The shoulder bears the weight, the head the burden;

The shoulder lifts, the head must carry. Great

For both the heaviness, the endless pain,

For both the thorns, for both hard labour, thankless

Unending work, the sorrow of their people,

The care of each and all, the scorching tears

Of all, that make their path a desert, and

Their robe so heavy, as if dew had changed

Into the icy hangings of the frost.

The shoulder oftentimes is wounded by

The crown, the head bowed low, the heart so heavy,

Much heavier than all that heavy weight,

And yet doth woman's frail and bending shoulder

Resist the load, and still her smiling eyes

And gentle lips make all the world believe

Her shoulder bleedeth not, her toil is easy,

The load they put upon her without asking

How great her strength, is like a toy. Oh, smile!

Ye heavy-laden Queens! Let not a sigh

Escape your loving hearts, and no complaint

Break from the lips God made to heal and bless!

Oh, smile! The world doth not forgive its slaves

For looking overworked. If thou canst bear

No more, then change the shoulder, tired Queen!