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 From those huts there shall be smoke!"

Thus the Emperor Nintok spoke.

Three years sped. Upon his roof

That Monarch paced again. Aloof

His Empress hung, ill-pleased to see

The snows drip through her gallery,

The gates agape for cracks, and gray

With wear and weather. "Consort! say

If thus the Emperor of Japan

Should lodge, like some vile peasant man

Whose thatch leaks for a load of straw?"

"Princess august! what recks a flaw,"

Nintok replied, "in gate or wall

When, far and wide, those chimneys all

Fling their blue house-flags to the sky

Where the Gods count them? Thou and I

Have part in all the poor folks' health:

A people's weal makes a King's wealth!"