Arthur Weir (1864-1902 / Canada)

Mad fools! To think that men can be
Made equal all, when God
Made one well nigh divinity
And one a soulless clod.

Nowhere in Nature can we find
Things equal, save in death,
One man must rule with thoughtful mind,
One serve with panting breath.

The maples spread their foliage green
To shade the grass below,
Hills rise the lowly vales between
Or streams would never flow.

A million creatures find a home
Within a droplet's sphere,
And giants through the woodlands roam
While quakes the land in fear.

A tiny fall in music breaks
Against the mountain's base,
While roars an avalanche and shakes
The whole world in its race.

One must be weak and one be strong,
One huge, another small,
To help this teeming world along,
And make a home for all.

Equality is death, not life,
In Nature and with man,
And progress is but upward strife
With some one in the van.