The little one, and vowed no harm
Should reach it there; so, day by day,
Caressed and sheltered by his arm,
The young stork grew apace, and from
The loom's high beams looked down with eyes
Of silent love upon his ancient friend,
As two lone ones might sympathize.
At last the loom was hushed: no more
The deftly handled shuttle flew;
No more the westering sunlight fell