Classic Poem

A clerk tiptoeing the office floor
in a flurry of insignificant stuff;
or with samples from store to store
to speak politely to the gruff,
entering timidly the door,
trying to bow and smile it right
with smiles seen not true enough,
a young man who was so bright.

They spoke proudly and well,
fearing and revering none,
had no longing to buy and sell
or chatter with girls half the night;
what at last have these men done,
the young men who were so bright?