(Not like these stingless stinking things 
That climb about me here and spread 
Aphis and scale and filth around) 
But gallant soldiers who, in thanks for harbourage, 
Sallied in angry force ’gainst any foe 
Who might approach to do me injury. 
XI 
Such was my home—thus Nature willed that I should live— 
Not in a glassy sepulchre that shutters out 
The sunlight and the wind and rain; 
Not in a grimly regulated cell 
Where every breath and every sup 
Is measured by the rule of some abstruse machine. 
XII 
I may not die—the routine of the gaol 
Can warp the spirit and yet build the frame— 
But all their care and all their erudition 
Can never in my being strike the spark 
That lights the flame of fierce desire 
To urge me to my life’s fruition. 
XIII 
Give me the sunlight and the breeze, 
The tickling of the wind about my leaves, 
The soothing patter of the rain that comes 
By Nature’s bounty to revive the thirsty earth. 
Give me the life that every living thing is heir to 
The right to strive and struggle—to succeed or die! 
XIV 
Give me just these and in return 
In humble gratitude and joyous love 
I’ll bear for thee such flowers 
As you in your most secret heart 
Have never dared to hope for— 
Such beauty and such fragrance as shall make 
Your heart stand still a beat—and bate your breath— 
Like unto one who stands within a Holy Place 
And sees transfigured Truth— 
And knows at last that God is Beauty 
And Beauty—Love transmuted. 
374 
