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 | The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich |  |
II
What if the boulevards, at the set of sun,Reddened, but not with sunset's kindly glow?
What if from quai and square the murmured woe
Swept heavenward, pleadingly? The prize was won,
A kingling made and Liberty undone.
No Emperor, this, like him a while ago,
But his Name's shadow; that one struck the blow
Himself, and sighted the street-sweeping gun!
| The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich | |