To The Men of America

You talk of your breed of cattle,
And plan for a higher strain, 
You double the food of the pasture,
You heap up the measure of grain ; 
You draw on the wits of the Nation
To better the barn and the pen;
But what are you doing, my brothers,
To better the breed of men?

You boast of your Morgans and Hereford,
Of the worth of a calf or a colt, 
And scoff at the scrub and the mongrel, 
As worthy a fool or a dolt; 
You mention the points of your roadster 
With many a "wherefore" and "when", 
But, ah, are you counting, my brothers,
The worth of the children of men?

You talk of your roan-colored filly,
Your heifer so shapely and sleek; 
No place shall be filled in your stanchions
By stock that's unworthy or weak. 
But what of the stock of your household ?
Have they wandered beyond your ken? 
Oh, what is revealed in the round-up
That brands the daughters of men?

And what of your boy? Have you measured
His needs for a growing year? 
Does your mark as his sire, in his features,
Mean less than your brand on a steer? 
Thoroughbred—that is your watchword
For stable and pasture and pen; 
But what is your word for the homestead?
Answer, you breeders of men!


by Rose M. Trumball