| Edwin Arlington Robinson (18691935). Collected Poems. 1921. |
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| VII. The Three Taverns |
| 13. Archibalds Example |
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| OLD ARCHIBALD, in his eternal chair, | |
| Where trespassers, whatever their degree, | |
| Were soon frowned out again, was looking off | |
| Across the clover when he said to me: | |
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| My green hill yonder, where the sun goes down | 5 |
| Without a scratch, was once inhabited | |
| By trees that injured himan evil trash | |
| That made a cage, and held him while he bled. | |
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| Gone fifty years, I see them as they were | |
| Before they fell. They were a crooked lot | 10 |
| To spoil my sunset, and I saw no time | |
| In fifty years for crooked things to rot. | |
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| Trees, yes; but not a service or a joy | |
| To God or man, for they were thieves of light. | |
| So down they came. Nature and I looked on, | 15 |
| And we were glad when they were out of sight. | |
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| Trees are like men, sometimes; and that being so, | |
| So much for that. He twinkled in his chair, | |
| And looked across the clover to the place | |
| That he remembered when the trees were there. | 20 |
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