In Wall Street once a potent power, br And now a multi-millionaire br Alone within a shady bower br In clothes his valet would not wear, br He watches bird wings bright the air. br br The man who mighty mergers planned, br And oil and coal kinglike controlled, br With field-glasses in failing hand br Spies downy nestlings five days old, br With joy he could not buy for gold. br br Aye, even childlike is his glee; br But how he crisps with hate and dread br And shakes a clawlike fist to see br A kestrel hover overhead: br Though he would never shoot it dead. br br Although his cook afar doth forage br For food to woo his appetite, br The old man lives on milk and porridge br And now it is his last delight br At eve if one lone linnet lingers br To pick crushed almonds from his fingers.