Or rake, or harrow, are alike unknown.
The young girls carry water on their heads
In well-formed pitchers, just like Cambrian maids;
And all each morn and eve wash in the stream,
And sport like mermaids in the sparkling wave.
The village is laid out with taste and skill:
In the midst a spacious square, where stands the church,
And narrow streets diverging all around.
Between the houses, filling up each space,
The broad, green-leaved, luxuriant plantain grows,