The Leaden Ey
Vachel Lindsay

Let not young souls be smothered out before
They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride
It is the world's sore crime its babies grow dull,
Its poor are ox-like, limp and leaden eyed.

Not that they starve, but starve so dreamlessly,
Not that they sow, but they seldom reap.
Not that they serve, but have no gods to serve
Not that they die, but that they die like sheep.