Page:Poems Jackson.djvu/201

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MY HOUSE IS NOT MADE WITH HANDS.
149
On underside of fronds, and hid
Unless one lift the carven lid;
And many things which in my haste
And ignorance I reckon waste,
Unsightly and unclean, I find
Are but delicious food, designed
For travellers who come each day,
And eat, and drink, and go their way.
I am the only one who need
Go hungry where so many feed;
My birthright of protection lost,
Because of fathers' sins the cost
Is counted in the children's blood:
I starve where once I might have stood
Content and strong as bird or bee,
Feeding like them on flower or tree.
When I have hunger, I must rise
And seek the poisons I despise,
Leaving untouched on every hand
The sweet wild foods of air and land,
And leaving all my happier kin
Of beasts and birds behind to win
The great rewards which only they
Can win who Nature's laws obey.

Under these roofs of waving thatch,
Lying whole days to dream and watch,
I find myself grow more and more
Vassal of summer than before;
Allegiances I thought were sworn
For life I break with hate and scorn.