But from material at command to trace,
In harmony with law, the primal line
For boundary fence, between his farm and mine.
I lost my case—all but one narrow lane!
All other gates are closed, but why complain?
Diminished somewhat is my large estate,
But self-respect remains—nor place for hate;
O'er our line-fence we grasp each other's hand,
And for the right, united, ever stand.