  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. 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— ’Twere 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 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 Thy 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, 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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