Marxists read Tolkien

Sam gazed in wonder at Galadriel
insensible to sound, or light, or pain
inert, anaesthetized by beauty's spell
all blood's diverted from the Hobbit's brain
if Celeborn were wiser, he'd discern
how far above his station he had wed
but even he's not dumb enough to spurn
this mighty Noldo hot to share his bed
the timeless moment passed, the tale moved on
a brief vignette of love transgressing class
'though Bilbo might recast it in a song
Sam'd never murmur that his host's an ass
to think such thoughts encrimsoned Sam's coarse face
a worthy gard'ner knows a peasant's place