Classic Poem

What a great battle you and I have fought!
A fight of sticks and whips and swords,
A one-armed combat,
For each held the left hand pressed close to the heart,
To save the caskets from assault.

How tenderly we guarded them;
I would keep mine and still have yours,
And you held fast to yours and coveted mine.
Could we have dropt the caskets
We would have thrown down weapons
And been at each other like apes,
Scratching, biting, hugging
In exasperation.

What a fight!
Thank God that I was strong as you,
And you, though not my master, were my match.
How we panted; we grew dizzy with rage.
We forgot everything but the fight and love of the caskets.
These we called by great names—
Personality, Liberty, Individuality.

Each fought for right to keep himself a slave
And to redeem his fellow
How can this be done?
But the fight ended.
For both was victory;
For both there was defeat.
Through blood we saw the caskets on the floor;
Our jewels were revealed:
An ugly toad is mine,
While yours was filled with most contemptible, small snakes.
One held my vanity, the other held your sloth.

The fight is over, and our eyes are clear.—
Good friend, shake hands.