Lord Byron on Breadfruit

“The bread-tree, which, without the ploughshare yields, The unreap'd harvest of unfurrow'd fields, And bakes its unadulterated loaves Without a furnace in unpurchased groves, And flings off famine from its fertile breast, A priceless market for the gathering guest.”

“   The happy shores without a law, ... Where all partake the earth without dispute, And bread itself is gather'd as a fruit; Where none contest the fields, the woods, the streams:— The goldless age, where gold disturbs no dreams, Inhabits or inhabited the shore, Till Europe taught them better than before, Bestow'd her customs, and amended theirs, But left her vices also to their heirs.”