that casts a blight
On those that pull their sisters' hair, and fight.
But oh! the Good! They wander undismayed,
And (as the Subtle Artist has portrayed)
Dispend the golden hours at play beneath its shade.
(A friend of mine, a Botanist, believes
That Good can even browse upon its leaves,
I doubt it . . . .)
Dear Reader, if you chance to catch a sight
Of Upas Trees, betake yourself to flight.