To Measure a Man
You presume to measure a Man by his lack,
By the creak of his will,
And the girdle that binds his loins;
The life he spares
Through passions scarce,
And valve upon his brow;
You strive to know his worth
By the size of his hunger
And perpetual discontent.
There is no use for the fruit of man -
But the Heavens sallow on a clement day,
When seasons falter and shadows dim
For evergreen renouncement.