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
