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“Right again,” said th’ ángels, “there can Bé no mánner of doúbt about it." . “ Thát 's all now," said Gód; “tomorrow Cóme again and ye shall móre see."

When the angels cáme the next day
Gód indeed had not been idle,
And they saw the little ball swarming
With all kinds of living creatures.

Thére they went in pairs, the creatures,
of all sizes, shápes and colors,
Stálking, hópping, leáping, climbing,
Cráwling, búrrowing, swimming, flýing,

Squealing, singing, roaring, grúnting,
Bárking, bráying, méwing, hówling,
Chúckling, gábbling, crowing, quácking,
Cáwing, croaking, búzzing, híssing:

Such assembly there has never
From that day down beén on earth seen;
From that day down such a concert
Thére has never been on earth heard.

Fór there, rámping and their máker
Praising in their várious fashions,
Wére all Gód's created spécies,
All except the fóssilized ones;

Fór whose ábsence on that great day
The most likely cause assigned yet,
Ís that they were quite forgotten
And would not go úninvited.

Bút let that be as it may be,
All th' unfóssilized ones were there
Striving which of them would noísiest
Praise bestów upon their máker.

“Well," said th’ ángels, when they 'd looked on Silently some time and listened; “Well, you súrely have a stránge taste; What did you make all these queer things for ?”

“Cóme tomorrow and I 'll show you,”
Said God, gleéful his hands rúbbing;

've yét seen 's á mere nothing Tó what yoú shall see tomorrow.”

Só, when th' ángels cáme the next day
All tiptoé with expectation,
Ánd stretched nécks and eyes and ears out
Towards the new world, Gód said to them: -

“There he is,' my last and best work;
There he is, the noble creature;
Í told you you should see something;
What do you sáy: now? háve I word kept?”.

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“Whére, where is he?" said the angels;
“We see nothing bút the little ball
With its big ball, moon and little stars
Ánd queer, yelping, cápering kickshaws."

“I don't wéll know what you mean by
Kíckshaws,” said God scárcely quite pleased,
“Bút amỏng my creatures yunder
Don't you see one nóbler figure ?

“By his strong, round, tail-less buttocks, i
Ånd his flát claws yoú may know him
Éven wére he not so like me
That we might pass for twin brothers.”

“Now we see him," said the angels;
“Hów is 't possible wé o’erlooked him ?
Hé 's indeéd your very image
Only less strong ánd wise looking.”

“Só I hope the mystery 's cleared up,”
Said God with much sélfcomplácence,
“And you are no longer púzzled
Whát I 've been about these six days.”.

“Éven th’ Almighty,” said the angels,
“Máy be proud of such chef-d'oeuvre,
Súch magnificent and crówning
Íssue of a six days' lábor.”


Hére a deep sigh rént God's bósom,
Ảnd a sháde came ó'er God's features: -
“Áh," he cried, “were yé but hónesti
And no traitor stood amongst ye!

“Thén indeéd this wére a great work,
Thén indeed I were too háppy;
Áh! it 's too bad, dównright too bad,
Bút I 'll -- shåll I? yés, I 'll let you;

“Let you disappoint and frét me,
Lét you disconcert my whole plan
Whý of áll my vírtues should I
Leáve unpráctised only patience?

“There he is, my nóblest, best work;
Táke him, do your pleasure with him.
Áfter áll perháps I 'll find some
Meáns to pátch my bróken saúcer.

“Nów begone! don't let me see you
Hére again till I send fór you;
Í 'm tired working, and intend to
Rést my weary bónes tomorrow."

Só God láy late on the next day
Ánd the whole day long did nothing
Bút refléct upon his ill luck
Ánd the great spite of the ángels.

And he said: "Becaúse I 've résted
Áll this seventh day, and done nothing,
Eách seventh day shall be kept hóly
Ánd a day of rést for ever.”

And as God said and commanded
Só it is now, and still shall be:
All hard work done on the séventh day,
To the first day áll respect shown.


DERE Ambition úp hill toiling,
Straining every nerve and sinew,
Sweating, pánting, táking nó rest,
Díre Ambítion, listen to me.

Highest climbers get the worst falls,
Ón the hill - top stórms blow fiércest,
Lightning oftenest strikes the summits,
Díre Ambition, túrn and come down.

Ín the valley here it 's sheltered,
Eásy, sáfe and súre and pleasant;
Ón those steep heights there's scarce footing,

grow dízzy to look at thee.

Higher still thou climb'st and higher,
Léndest nó ear, look'st not once down;
Álmost in the clouds I see thee,
Fár above the reach of my words.

Fáre thee wéll then

ónly fáll not -
Ánd as háppy bé above there,
If thou canst, as í belów here
In the cálm, sequéstered válley.


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