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HORNYIIAND.

I.

How now, Hornyhand,

Toiling in the crowd,

What is there in thee or thine

That thou scornest me and mine

Looking down so proud?

Thou'rt the bee, and I'm the drone!Not so,-Hornyhand!

Sit beside me on the sward;—

Where's the need to stand?

And we'll reason, thou and I,

'Twixt the green grass and the sky.

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II.

Thou canst plough and delve,
Thou canst weave and spin,

On thy brow are streaks of care,

Iron-grey's thy scanty hair

And thy garments thin;

Were it not for such as thou,

Toiling morn and night,

Luxury would lose its gauds,

And the land its might;

Mart and harbour would decay,

Tower and temple pass away.

III.

Granted, Hornyhand!

High's the work you do ;

Spring-time sowing, autumn tilth,
And the red wine's lusty spilth,

Were not but for you.

G

Art and arms, and all the pride

Of our wealth and state,

Start from Labour's honest hands,

Labour high and great,

Sire of Plenty, friend of Mirth,

Master of the willing Earth.

IV.

Yet, good Horny hand,

Why shouldst thou be vain?

Why should builder, ploughman, smith,

Boastful of their strength and pith,

Scorn the busy brain?

Working classes, self-bedubb'd!

As if none but they

Labour'd with incessant toil,

Night as well as day,

With the spirit and the pen,

Teachers, guides, and friends of men!

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