dots-menu
×

Home  »  An American Anthology, 1787–1900  »  553 The Last Landlord

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Elizabeth AkersAllen

553 The Last Landlord

YOU who dread the cares and labors

Of the tenant’s annual quest,

You who long for peace and rest,

And the quietest of neighbors,

You may find them, if you will,

In the city on the hill.

One indulgent landlord leases

All the pleasant dwellings there;

He has tenants everywhere,—

Every day the throng increases;

None may tell their number, yet

He has mansions still to let.

Never presses he for payment;

Gentlest of all landlords he;

And his numerous tenantry

Never lack for food or raiment.

Sculptured portal, grassy roof,

All alike are trouble-proof.

Of the quiet town’s frequenters,

Never one is ill at ease;

There are neither locks nor keys,

Yet no robber breaks or enters;

Not a dweller bolts his door,

Fearing for his treasure-store.

Never sound of strife or clamor

Troubles those who dwell therein;

Never toil’s distracting din,

Stroke of axe, nor blow of hammer;

Crimson clover sheds its sweets

Even in the widest streets.

Never tenant old or younger

Suffers illness or decline;

There no suffering children pine;

There comes never want nor hunger;

Woe and need no longer reign;

Poverty forgets its pain.

Turmoil and unrest and hurry

Stay forevermore outside;

By the hearts which there abide

Wrong, privation, doubt, and worry

Are forgotten quite, or seem

Only like a long-past dream.

Never slander nor detraction

Enters there, and never heard

Is a sharp or cruel word;

No unworthy thought or action,

Purpose or intent of ill

Knows the city on the hill.

There your mansion never waxes

Out of date, nor needs repairs;

There intrude no sordid cares;

There are neither rent nor taxes;

And no vexed and burdened brain

Reckons either loss or gain.

Wanderers, tired with long endeavor,

You whom, since your being’s dawn,

With the stern command “Move on!”

Ruthless Fate has tracked forever,

Here at last your footsteps stay

With no dread of moving-day!