Classic Poem

I will not feed on flesh of living beast,
But I will live on green things that are blowing,
Only on mushrooms and on salads feast,
On cress that are the river-secrets knowing,
And they will whisper me what water-drops
Babble to them and what the breezes chatter
Above the corn to silken tassel-tops
Turned into windy waves where sunbeams scatter.

I will not set fear on the forest-lair,
Or silver-burnished people of the water,
Nor drive into the unsuspecting air
The weapon and the agony of slaughter.
I will not slay tame folk of fur and feather
That trusted me, the god who held their tether. .