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THE KING IS DEAD! LONG LIVE THE KING!
When man, the hunter, winning in the race, Had conquered much, and, conquering, grown apace, Till out of victory he found defeat, And, having eaten all, had naught to eat,— Then might some Jeremiah sad have said, Seeing his hopeless case, “The King is dead!” But man is master most in power to change; He turned his forest to a cattle range; There was no foe to strive with—wherefore strive? No food to kill—he kept his food alive. Herding his dinner, see him sit and sing Serene, “The King is dead! Long live the King!” When man the shepherd, after years did pass, By nature’s increase grew, until the grass Failed to support the requisite supply Of cattle who must live lest he should die; Again a grieved observer might be led To pitifully say, “The King is dead!” But man, who turned his prey into a pet, To outwit hunger, was not baffled yet; He’d searched for grass so long he’d learned to praise it, And now that grass was short—why, he could raise it! His dinner sprouted with the happy spring Profuse, “The King is dead! Long live the King!” When man, the farmer, growing very great, Out of his children built the busy State, Those greedy children, to his loud alarm, Pinched all the profits off the old man’s farm, Killing the golden goose, and while he bled, Cried sage economists, “The King is dead!” But he, good sooth, was never more alive; He watched the pools and trusts around him strive, And when he’d learned the trick—it was not long— He organized himself—a million strong! Cornered the food supply! A Farmer’s Ring! Hurrah! “The King is dead! Long live the King!”
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Next: “HOW MANY POOR!”