They say one king is mad. Perhaps. Who knows?
They say one king is doddering and grey.
They say one king is slack and sick of mind,
A puppet for hid strings that twitch and play.
Is Europe then to be their sprawling-place?
Their mad-house, till it turns the wide world's bane?
Their place of maudlin, slavering conference
Till every far-off farmstead goes insane?
Who Knows?
Vachel Lindsay
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Poem topics: house, sick, world, wide, play, mind, europe, place, king, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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