Getting together, if only we could,
Holds for all peoples the greatest of good.
Progress is halted when quarrels hold sway.
Should you want proof of the words that I say,
Watch for a moment two children at play.
Bob has an airport, a bit of a toy
Fashioned from tin or some kindred alloy,
Boasting a plane that’s attached by a wire.
This, when it’s wound, will turn into a flyer,
Circling the airport for him to admire.
Peggy, his sister, was watching it land.
Then, all at once, with a swipe of her hand,
Movement was halted as though by a blow.
Peg had the key which allowed it to go.
Bob seized his airport; thus ended the show.
Labor and capital! Nations in strife!
Folks who are bickering daily in life!
Progress is waiting for you to agree.
Look at your problem, and there you will see
Bob with the airport and Peg with the key.