Came across this poem by Marianne Moore and felt it oddly appropriate for "these times"...
THE HEN THAT LAID THE GOLDEN EGGS
Take all that is there and forfeit increment,
Is a truth too clear for argument
In the old fairy tale in which golden eggs were laid,
One a day. The poor owner would stare
At the hen, till sure there was gold in her to share,
Then killed, spread out the bird, and of course was repaid
By no more than would be found in an ordinary hen.
He had cut the magic chain and she'd never lay again.
Think of this when covetous!
How many we have seen in our own century
Reduced to poverty by striving hard to be