Mother Nature Poem by Roger Hadden

She is beautiful and good,
But of amiable mood,
No dreary repeater now and again,
She will be all things to all men.

She who is old, but nowise feeble,
Pours her power into the people,
Merry and manifold without bar,
Makes and molds them what they are,

And what they call their city way
Is not their way, but hers,
And what they say they made today
They learned of the oaks and firs,

She spawns men as mallows fresh,
She drugs her waters and her wheat
With flavors she finds meet,
And gives them what to drink and eat;

And having thus their bread and growth,
They do her bidding, nothing loath.
What's most theirs is not their own,
But borrowed in atoms from iron and stone,

And in their vaunted works of Art
The master-stroke is still her part.