A NIGHTMARE.

I dreamed that I was dead. The years went by:

The world forgot that such a man as I

Had ever lived and written: other names

Were hailed with homage, in their turn to die.

Out of my grave a giant beech upgrew.

Its roots transpierced my body, through and through,

My substance fed its growth. From many lands

Men came in troops that giant tree to view.

‘ T was sacred to my memory and fame —

My monument. But Allen Forman came,

Filled with the fervor of a new untruth,

And carved upon the trunk his odious name!