The three gifts
A woodland tree rises straight and tall
And the birds high up so sweetly call:
There four cheerful journeymen wended.
Each one to it some attention pays;
Then they all go their separate ways,
For day there is almost ended.
The first one a carver was by trade
And of the tree he swiftly made
A man of handsome bearing.
The second fellow was tailor Dick;
Who made fine clothes for it, neat and slick;
Its lack of mind though was glaring!
A budding poet was the third
The block he perused without a word,
With life and mind he bestowed it.
The new man bowed and went his way;
But wonders more and more: ‘Who, pray,
With the finest gift me has loaded?’
His fortune in town was quickly made,
For it always helps with clothes well made;
With titles they simply adorned him.
Each lady’s heart it was all afire,
He is indeed a handsome young sire.
– For lack of mind nobody scorned him.
To see the original poem, go to here.
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