Common Ground

Two neighbors lived across a road,
One on a side, I knew them both
And how each was his neighbor’s foe,
And why they bore this secret load
With diligence I do not know.

One raised his crops by luck and wish.
When he felt tired, called it a day,
Not superstitious, saw no ghost
Of duty when he went to fish;
Leisure was what he cherished most.

The other treated play with scorn,
Bound as he was to field and chores,
He sweat in earnest, found the sin
Of loafing was not to be borne;
Work as salvation kept him thin.

Neighbors they were, each with the knack
Of holding his nose for the other’s lack—
And one carried milk in a leaky pail,
The other a mortgage on his back,
Each found Sears Roebuck in his mail.