Bread and hide and shed, they say
Form the tripod on which rests his soul
Deny him one and his life shall crumble
Like balls of cheese under stoneweight.
Food for the stomach, stomach for the food
Both shall someday perish, cries pious man
Yet he eats and drinks in the morning
And slugs it out with life for dinner
This one that swaggers about
In overflowing patterned garments
Nurses his headache, too
Check. Close your eyes and see.
Here is a sprawling mansion
You must hold your cap in hand
To see its very pinnacle
But the owner lacks peace.
There must be more to a man
Than food, clothing and shelter
For doesn’t a beast of the field
Boast of these things as well?