Explore "Madness" by Joyce Kilmer on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
(For Sara Teasdale)
The 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 -- / To-day he is a king.
Last night a king in orb and crown / Held court with splendid cheer; / To-day 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.
Serene, unchanging, ever fair, / I smile with secret mirth / And in a net of mine own hair / I swing the captive earth.