Classic Poem

Nature saith,
I am not infinite,
But imprisoned & bound,
Tool of mind,
Tool of the being I feed & adorn.

Twas I did soothe
Thy thorny youth;
I found thee placed
In my most leafless waste;
I comforted thy little feet
On the forlorn errand bound;
I fed thee, with my mallows fed,
On the first day of failing bread.