of all the blessings which to man
kind progress doth impart
one stands supreme i mean the an
imal without a heart.
Huge this collective pseudobeast
(sans either pain or joy)
does nothing except preexist
its hoi in its polloi
and if sometimes he's prodded forth
to exercise her vote
(or made by threats of somethings worth
than death to change their coat
-which something as you'll never guess
in fifty thousand years
equals the quote and unquote loss
of liberty my dears-
or even is compelled to fight
itself from tame to teem)
still doth our hero contemplate
in raptures of undream
that strictly(and how)scienti
fic land of supernod
where freedom is compulsory
and only man is god.
Without a heart the animal
is very very kind
so kind it wouldn't like a soul
and couldn't use a mind
Edward Estlin Cummings
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/of-all-the-blessings-which-to-man/
