Profit And Loss

Each day a new sword flashes in the van; Another leader, brave to do or die, Comes forth, full- furnished for the strife whereby He gains his growth and stature as a man. Each day our world, that under the black ban Of ignorant custom for so long did lie, Grows bright and brighter, like a clearing sky, More good and lovely in its wondrous plan. Yet oh! how few the saved, how small the gain, How poor the profit as against the cost — The waste of life, divinely vast and fair, Potential in starved soul and unfed brain — The powers that might have been and might be — lost Only for want of common food and air!