Read this excerpt from Vachel Lindsay’s “In Praise of Johnny Appleseed.”
Self-scourged, like a monk, with a throne for wages,
Stripped like the iron-souled Hindu sages,
Draped like a statue, in strings like a scarecrow,
His helmet-hat an old tin pan,
But worn in the love of the heart of man.
The author most likely uses the allusions in this excerpt to
