Eugenics

T HIS subject seems walled with dry concrete and deep
      as the well on the farm
Where the Old Oaken Bucket with treasure, moss-covered,
     draft-laden to charm
The thought where the palate was thirsty for research pro-
     nounced and to find
In our good Mr. Wiggam the key-note to a staff is beautifully
      timed.

We supposed that our cells of gray matter, more commonly
     known as the brain,
Here was " hub " to the wheel we are turning in our part of
     heredity's train;
But it seems we have read incorrectly; the depth took us
     farther to sea
Until the trade-winds and the gulf-stream brought the " log "
      of life's process to lee.

The Ark 'twixt the interim of Cycles, few, few of the earth
     comprehend,
And the Germ was the God-given wisdom in Noah, the twain
     to attend;
Not known then as Science and Research, but just in a
     primitive way
He anchored to God's highest landmark--was the Olive-
      Branch dove of his day.

The Germ and the Brain and the Body, each have a choice
     function to fill

And each is pronounced in construction, while each may its
      wonders distil,

But the lineal garb of our wisdom in pursuit of the Maker's
     Great Plan
Is dark in the way of conception to Science, so-called as
      frail man.

We hark to our great men of letters and talk of born Kings
     o'er the sea,
In night, with no Star for a leader to the Cradle, though
     humble it be,
And I study the links in Hygienics that unite in the God-given
     chain
While workers of metal have welded their talents, in sceptres
      of pain.

And now in our "summing-up process " with much am-
     munition at hand,
Train well on the tower of wisdom and propagate Eden's
     fair land;
Turn light on the roads that beset us; plant flowers along
     every way
And the kernels of truth will mature in harvests, where Cupids
     may play.