Up, up the chimney go the sparks apace;
Up, up, to vanish in the gusty sky.
The black cat--look! he leaves his wonted place,
And hark! he speaks: "_Then, king of cats am I!_"
And with this first and last word for good-by,
Up, up the chimney he hath vanished quite.
"Our dear, our good Black Prince!" the children cry;
"We always thought he should be king by right,
But we shall miss him sadly, both by day and night."
X
The legend saith (I know no more than you,
Reader of fairy lore with fancy fraught),
That humble hearth nor evil fortune knew,
Nor discontent. Long time the children sought
For tidings of the lost; yet heard they naught;
But sometimes, of a winter eventide,
When all was bright within, the children thought
That, when they called up through the chimney wide,
Thence, with a gentle purr, their olden friend replied.