We yoke our children each to the same yoke,
The slow are dragged, the fast attempt to run
Ahead, until the slow slip from it, broke,
The fast break out, their education done.
Unless the fast are beaten to submission,
To mediocrity, and made to drag
The plow that underturns the slow, derision
And pity all they get for early lag.
More fields would become plowed if like were bound
To like – if fertile fields are our true goals –
We do not educate the deaf with sounds,
We don’t expect more egg-laying from foals.
Don’t say you love them all the same when you
Tie down the spirit, crush the weak and slow
Instead of helping to make strong, give due
To those who hunger to be wise and know.
It’s not strong oxen that you want, and less
A horse with lively spirit. No, it’s sheep,
That you can safely herd and sheer and dress
To feed upon – your goal as they still sleep.