COBBLER AND STORK
Whilst round thy homely bench
Thy well-belovèd played,
In yonder hall beneath a pall
A little one was laid;
Thy well-belovèd's face
Was rosy with delight,
But 'neath that pall in yonder hall
The little face is white;
Whilst by a merry voice
Thy soul is filled with cheer,
Another weeps for one that sleeps
All mute and cold anear;
One father hath his hope,
And one is childless now;
He wears a crown and rules a town
Only a cobbler thou!
Wouldst thou exchange thy lot
At price of such a woe?
I'll nest no more above thy door,
But, as thou bidst me, go.
Cobbler.
Nay, stork! thou shalt remain—
I mean not what I said;
Good neighbors we must always be,
So make thy home o'erhead.
I would not change my bench
For any monarch's throne,
[54]
