Spread Out

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Title:     Spread Out
Author: Edmund Vance Cooke [More Titles by Cooke]

In politics I'm a--never mind,
And you are a--I don't care,
But, anyway, I am rather inclined
To suspect we are both unfair;
For I have called you a coward and slave
And you have dubbed me a fool and knave.

(Yet, perhaps I was right, for you surely abused
The right of free speech in the names you used!)

In business you figure--a profit, I guess,
And I charge you--as much as I dare,
And I grumble that you ought to do it for less,
And you ask if my price is fair.
But if I sold your goods and you sold mine,
I doubt if the prices would much decline.

(Though I must insist that I think I see
Where you'd still have a little advantage of me!)

In religion you are a--who cares what?
And I am a--what's the odds?
So why have I sneered at your holiest thought,
And why have you jeered at my gods?
For, thinking it over, I'm sure we two
Were doing the best that we honestly knew.

(Though, of course, I cannot escape a touch
Of suspicion that you never knew too much!)

[The end]
Edmund Vance Cooke's poem: Spread Out

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