Head and Hand

Proud in his knowledge sits the professor
Sure those unlearnèd to be his lesser.
His home filled with books of arcane learning,
His mind with deep theories, restlessly churning.

Of abstract matters his neighbour cares naught
Tiresome theory brings out words rude and short.
With skill borne of years he well wields his tools
Free from book-learning as taught in high-schools.
Of physics his head is largely devoid,
Fathomless formulas get him annoyed.

But the shelves he erects stay on the wall.
He feels most at home with saw, drill and awl.
His hand and his eye learn best by action
Free from perverse theoretic abstraction.

When the professor needs forces applied
The craftsman he calls, for skill undenied.
Adorning his home, the Doctor most learnèd,
Has piles of papers, some read, some spurnèd.
If his arms had been as wise as his head
Away they'd be stored on shelving instead.

 ----------------------------------------