You have no right to be here, that is flat!
Get off it! That is all I ask of you!—”
“Own it?” said he; “what’s that?”
“What’s that?” said I, “why, that is common sense!
I own the water and the fishing right;
I own the land from here to yonder fence;
Get off, my friend, or fight!”
He looked at the clear stream so neatly kept;
He looked at teeming vine and laden tree,
And wealthy fields of grain that stirred and slept;