The Decay of Vanity lyrics

Now it is seven years since you were the Queen
That crowned my King; and six years since your ghost
Left your body cold in my arms as a stone.

The for three years I did heart-brokenly
Embalm your remains; but after that
I let your eye shrink and your body dry,

And had forgotten whether you still hung here,
Or had gone, with all the old junk, out onto the heap
Where scraggy c*ckerels rake and stab and peer -

Till this man loomed up with your shrunken head.
He, I see, by the majesty in his stride,
Dreams he swept some great queen towards his bed,

Yet skulks by me, swagger as he dare:
This royal trophy, which, in a world of pride,
Makes him your King, makes him my scavenger.