What's a gem to Irish renters,
When they want its worth in bread?
What are cars to sick inventors,
If they jar their dying bed?

Though you gain a proud ascendance
O'er some theory effete,
Can you sever your dependence
On the man who sows the wheat?

Does some savant—fossils turning—
Rank the man who turns the sod?
Can you in the hill of learning
Burrow out of sight of God?

Progress? Yes, in simple living;
Love that shines from door to door;
Open lives and secret giving
For the helping of the poor.