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THE DISPUTE OF THE HAMMERS.
  
  
  
  

THE DISPUTE OF THE HAMMERS.

While the bellows roared I listened, as the hammer-clink and clang,
In their triple-measured metre, on the sullen anvil rang;
And I heard amid the clamor, disputation which, of two,
Was the foremost in position, and had power the most to do.
Quoth the great sledge-hammer, gruffly—“You esteem me dull and coarse;
What would be the skill you boast of, if you lacked my power and force?
But for blows I strike incessant, in a ponderous, steady storm,
With your vaunted skilful labor, you would shape no useful form.”
Said the little hammer, pertly—“Give your idle boasting o'er;
In our craft I do the shaping, you the pounding—nothing more.
But for me the iron were shapeless under useless blows you rain:
Yours the aimless work of muscle: mine the thoughtful work of brain.”

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So they wrangled till the anvil, lying patient, dull and black,
To the boasting of the hammers, sullen muttered answer back—
“Ye are neither one the better, since to all the truth is plain:
Brain must ever call on muscle; muscle be in debt to brain.”
As it spoke I left the stithy, but a lesson thence I bore,
And it filled me with a knowledge I had never had before;
'Twas the anvil's words dogmatic forced my mind to understand
How complete was this connection of the work of brain and hand.
For the farmer with his acres, and the workman with his tools,
Have as much to use their reason as the bookmen of the schools;
And the thinker in his closet who consumes the midnight oil,
Like the farmer and mechanic, has to win his way by toil.
One is weak without the other; with each other both are strong;
Dwarfs apart, together giants, potent foes to fraud and wrong;
Hand in hand I see them marching through the coming golden years,
Rivals never, true companions, in their state and station peers.