by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
There is no progress in the world of bees,
However wise and wonderful they are.
Their wisdom makes not increase. Lies the bar,
To wider goals, in that tense strife to please
A Sovereign Ruler? Forth from flowers to trees
Their little quest is; not from star to star.
This is not growth; the mighty avatar
Comes not to do his work with such as these.
So in the world of men; when legions toil
To feed a Monarch, and begem a crown,
They build before high heaven a narrowing wall
And the great purpose of Creation spoil.
Not on, and upward, is the trend, but down;
The Race can rise but with the rise of all.