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IN THE FIRELIGHT

And as I hear my child's amen,

My mother's faith comes back to meCrouched at her side I seem to be, And mother holds my hands again.

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Oh, for an hour in that dear place-
Oh, for the peace of that dear time-
Oh, for that childish trust sublime—
Oh, for a glimpse of mother's face!
Yet, as the shadows round me creep,
I do not seem to be alone-
Sweet magic of that treble tone
And "Now I lay me down to sleep!"

COBBLER AND STORK

Cobbler.

STORK, I am justly wroth,

For thou hast wronged me sore:

The ash roof-tree that shelters thee Shall shelter thee no more!

Stork.

Full fifty years I 've dwelt
Upon this honest tree,

And long ago (as people know!)
I brought thy father thee.
What hail hath chilled thy heart,
That thou shouldst bid me go?

Speak out, I pray-then I 'll away,
Since thou commandest so.

COBBLER AND STORK

Cobbler.

Thou tellest of the time

When, wheeling from the west, This hut thou sought'st and one thou brought'st

Unto a mother's breast.
I was the wretched child

Was fetched that dismal morn-
'T were better die than be (as I)
To life of misery born!
And hadst thou borne me on

Still farther up the town,

A king I 'd be of high degree,
And wear a golden crown!

For yonder lives the prince

Was brought that selfsame day: How happy he, while-look at me! I toil my life away!

And see my little boy

To what estate he 's born!

Why, when I die no hoard leave I

But poverty and scorn.

And thou hast done it all

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COBBLER AND STORK

I might have been a king
And ruled in state, but for thy hate,
Thou base, perfidious thing!

Stork.

Since, cobbler, thou dost speak

Of one thou lovest well,

Hear of that king what grievous thing
This very morn befell.
Whilst round thy homely bench

They well-belovéd played,
In yonder hall beneath a pall

A little one was laid;

Thy well-belovéd'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,

COBBLER AND STORK

And one is childless now;

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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,

Nor sacrifice at any price

My darling and my own!

Stork on my roof-tree bide,

That, seeing thee anear,

I'll thankful be God sent by thee

Me and my darling here!

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