Of the new birth they prate, and prate,
While midwifery is out of date.
Every mechanic will commence
Orator, without mood or tense.
The bricklayer throws his trowel by,
And now builds mansions in the sky.
The cobbler, touched with holy pride,
Flings his old shoes and lasts aside,
And now devoutly sets about
Cobbling of souls that ne’er wear out.