A child is born with his own mind,
Independence his goal assigned.
When others’ thoughts come crowding in
His own must steel if he’s to win.

For, independence lost, lost is all,
He’s just another number on a wall.
A million numbers adding up to nil,
Soul-less nothing, with no sovereign will.

Yes, many eyes will see that number there,
But these, too, soul-less as the empty air,
Unless one, full of his life’s joy,
With hammer-blows that faceless wall destroy!

It’s done; the dust lies at his feet;
The sun seems brighter, the winds more sweet.
The child in him winks as he looks above—
His laughing independence his whole love.