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TREES AND OTHER POEMS MADNESS

HE lonely farm, the crowded street,

The palace and the slum,

Give welcome to my silent feet

As, bearing gifts, I come.

Last night a beggar crouched alone,

A ragged helpless thing;

I set him on a moonbeam throne—

Today he is a king.

Last night a king in orb and crown

Held court with splendid cheer;

Today he tears his purple gown

And moans and shrieks in fear.

Not iron bars, nor flashing spears,

Not land, nor sky, nor sea,

Nor love's artillery of tears

Can keep mine own from me.

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