But neither young nor old can tell.
The kings fare patient onward,
They follow a golden star o'erhead,
That bright and kind shines downward.
The star stands still o'er Joseph's house,
Thither the pilgrims bringing;
The oxen low, the Infant cries,
The three wise kings are singing.
XL.
My child, we two were children,
As lively as ever you saw,
We crept into the hencoop,
And we hid there beneath the straw.
And there, like cocks, crowed loudly,
While folk went passing by.
"Kickery-koo!" they fancied,
'Twas really the cock's own cry.
The chests that lay in the courtyard,
With paper we overlaid.
Therein we lived together;
An excellent house we made.
The old cat of our neighbor
Would visit us at whiles;
We gave her bows and curtsies,
And compliments and smiles.
After her health we inquired
Gravely whenever she came.
To many an ancient Tabby
Since then we have done the same.
We talked like grown folks sagely,
And sat there oft and long,
Complaining how all had altered,
Since the days when we were young.