"Honor and shame from no condition rise.
Act well your part:—there all the honor lies."
The shoemaker sat amid wax and leather,
With lapstone over his knee;
Where, snug in his shop, he defied all weather,
A-drawing his quarters and sole together:
A happy old man was he!
This happy old man was so wise and knowing,
The worth of his time he knew.
He bristled his ends, and he kept them going;
And felt to each moment a stitch was owing,
Until he got round the shoe.
Of every deed that his wax was sealing,
The closing was firm and fast.
The prick of his steel never caused a feeling
Of pain to the toe, and his skill in heeling
Was perfect, and true to the last!
Whenever you gave him a foot to measure.
With gentle and skilful hand,
He took its proportions, with looks of pleasure,
As if you were giving the costliest treasure,
Or dubbing him lord of the land.
And many a one did he save from getting
A fever, or cold or cough:
For many a sole did he save from wetting,
When, whether in water or snow 'twas setting,
His shoeing would keep them off
And when he had done with his making and mending,
With hope and a peaceful breast,
Resigning his awl, as his thread was ending,
He slid from his bench, to the grave descending,
As high as a king to rest!