Let not young souls be smothered out before
They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride.
It is the world's one crime its babes grow dull,
Its poor are ox-like, limp and leaden-eyed.
Not that they starve; but starve so dreamlessly,
Not that they sow, but that they seldom reap,
Not that they serve, but have no gods to serve,
Not that they die, but that they die like sheep.
More verses by Vachel Lindsay
- Star Of My Heart
- A Sense Of Humor
- The Moon's The North Wind's Cooky
- An Indian Summer Day On The Prairie
- Abraham Lincoln Walks At Midnight