I wear a crown invisible and clear, 
And go my lifted royal way apart 
Since you have crowned me softly in your heart 
With love that is half ardent, half austere; 
And as a queen disguised might pass anear 
The bitter crowd that barters in a mart, 
Veiling her pride while tears of pity start, 
I hide my glory thru a jealous fear. 
My crown shall stay a sweet and secret thing 
Kept pure with prayer at evensong and morn, 
And when you come to take it from my head, 
I shall not weep, nor will a word be said, 
But I shall kneel before you, oh my king, 
And bind my brow forever with a thorn.