"So sing old worlds, and so New worlds that from my footstool go. "Clearer loves sound other ways; I miss my little human praise." Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell 45 The flesh disguise, remained the cell. 'Twas Easter Day; he flew to Rome, And paused above Saint Peter's dome. In the tiring-room close by The great outer gallery, 50 With his holy vestments dight, Stood the new Pope, Theocrite; And all his past career Came back upon him clear, Since when, a boy, he plied his trade, 55 Till on his life the sickness weighed; And in his cell, when death drew near, An angel in a dream brought cheer; And rising from the sickness drear He grew a priest, and now stood here. 60 To the East with praise he turned, And on his sight the angel burned. "I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell And set thee here; I did not well. "Vainly I left my angel-sphere, 65 Vain was thy dream of many a year. "Thy voice's praise seemed weak; it dropped-- Creation's chorus stopped! "Go back and praise again The early way, while I remain. 70 "With that weak voice of our disdain, Take up creation's pausing strain. "Back to the cell and poor employ; Resume the craftsman and the boy!" Theocrite grew old at home; 75 A new Pope dwelt in Peter's dome. One vanished as the other died; They sought God side by side. THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN; A CHILD'S STORY I Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city; The river Weser, deep and wide, Washes its wall on the southern side; A pleasanter spot you never spied; 5 But when begins my ditty, Almost five hundred years ago, To see the townsfolk suffer so From vermin was a pity. II Rats! 10 They fought the dogs and killed the cats, And bit the babies in the cradles, And ate the cheeses out of the vats, And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles, Split open the kegs of salted sprats, 15 Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats. 20 III