Those firs, before whose stealthy-marching ranks
The world-old oaks still dwindle and retreat,
If I could stay their poisoned frown, which cows
The pale shrunk underwood, and nestled seeds
Into an age of sleep, 'twere something: and those men
O'er whom that one word 'ownership' uprears me--
If I could make them lift a finger up
But of their own free will, I'd own my seizin.
But now--when if I sold them, life and limb,
There's not a sow would litter one pig less
Than when men called her mine.--Possession's naught;
A parchment ghost; a word I am ashamed
To claim even here, lest all the forest spirits,
And bees who drain unasked the free-born flowers,
Should mock, and cry, 'Vain man, not thine, but ours.'
Wal. Possession's naught? Possession's beef and ale--
Soft bed, fair wife, gay horse, good steel.--Are they naught?
Possession means to sit astride of the world,
Instead of having it astride of you;
Is that naught? 'Tis the easiest trade of all too;
For he that's fit for nothing else, is fit
To own good land, and on the slowest dolt
His state sits easiest, while his serfs thrive best.
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