John Greenleaf Whittier

King Solomon and the Ants

Out from Jerusalem 
	The king rode with his great 
	War chiefs and lords of state,
And Sheba’s queen with them,

Comely, but black withal,
	To whom, perchance, belongs 
	That wondrous Song of songs,
Sensuous and mystical,

Whereto devout souls turn 
	In fond, ecstatic dream, 
	And through its earth-born theme
The Love of loves discern.

Proud in the Syrian sun, 
	In gold and purple sheen, 
	The dusky Ethiop queen
Smiled on King Solomon.

Wisest of men, he knew 
	The languages of all 
	The creatures great or small
That trod the earth or flew.

Across an ant-hill led
	The king’s path, and he heard 
	Its small folk, and their word
He thus interpreted:

“Here comes the king men greet 
	As wise and good and just,
	To crush us in the dust 
Under his heedless feet.”

The great king bowed his head,
	And saw the wide surprise
	Of the Queen of Sheba’s eyes 
As he told her what they said.

“O king!” she whispered sweet,
	“Too happy fate have they
	Who perish in thy way 
Beneath thy gracious feel!

“Thou of the God-lent crown, 
	Shall these vile creatures dare
	Murmur against thee where
The knees of kings kneel down?”

“Nay,” Solomon replied, 
	“The wise and strong should seek 
	The welfare of the weak,”
And turned his horse aside.

His train, with quick alarm,
	Curved with their leader round 
	The ant-hill’s peopled mound, 
And left it free from harm.

The jewelled head bent low;
	“O king!” she said, “henceforth
	The secret of thy worth 
And wisdom well I know.

“Happy must be the State 
	Whoso ruler heedeth more, 
	The murmurs of the poor
Than flatteries of the great.”