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THE TRAMP THAT WALKED LIKE A KING As we rode through Acadia upon a golden day, (Oh, white 'were all the apple-blooms, and blue the sky of spring!) We spied a figure far ahead, say fifty rods away, With head erect and shoulders broad-yes, every inch a king. A tall, majestic man he 'was, though shabby brown his suit, A ruler of the open road, a monarch of the land; And something of the old lost world made farmer-lads salute This wonderful and regal form, with a scepter in his hand. A scepter that 'was but a stick!-and yet he waved it there, As if proclaiming fields and streams his opulent domain. He wore no crown upon his brow-his noble head was bare; Hle needed no accoutrement, nor any lordly train. For he 'was every inch a king, and stately 'was his tread. (Oh, white were all the apple-trees, and blue the 'world's wide room!) "He dreams of gorgeous palace halls, and princesses," we said. (The whole earth 'was his castle, filled with marvelous perfume.) I never sa'w a man who seemed more dignified than he; (Oh, thrones might crumble far a'way-but he remained a king!) rind, as we passed him, 'we cried out, "Good day, your Majesty!" Whereat he turned and said, 'What ho! What message do ye bring" We could not smile. His regal mien caused us to envy him- A freeman if one ever lived, a monarch of the spring. We thought of strutting sales-clerks in the cities gray and dim, And 'wished ihat they might see this tramp -who wandered like a king.