THE TIP.

THE TIP.
250.2

I unmake men-teach them to sue
For wage they boldly should demand,
Or ask for more than is their due,
With servile mien and open hand.

I follow at the heels of wealth,
To gather largess at me flung,
I bully, cringe, and get by stealth
Of graft’s long ladder, lowest rung.

The shadow of that monstrous bulk,
Of golden calf I am the bleat.
You fill my palm or else I sulk
And do my work with leaden feet.

Children of those of all men peer,
The sturdy men of shore and ship,
Of farmer, craftsman, pioneer,
We take our graft and crave our tip.
-B. H. Nadal