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LAND-POOR, by                    
First Line: He gazes out across his fold
Last Line: His acres bear his secret gold.


He gazes out across his fold
And knows no twinges of regret.
His acres bear his secret gold.

With dreams his eyes alone behold,
Untarnished by the stain of debt,
He gazes out across his fold.

That wily spider, grim and cold,
Of Love-for-Land has spun its net.
His acres bear his secret gold.

Unloved and bent to Nature's mold,
Ignoring Solitude's vain threat,
He gazes out across his fold.

Renouncing joy, he has grown bold
And vanquished other thrills. And yet
His acres bear his secret gold.

He clings to Greed, that hag of old,
Who wooed him, once the two had met.
He gazes out across his fold,
His acres bear his secret gold.





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