Eugene Field

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
 
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—
  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
  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,
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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