That gave us shelter. There was a shepherd boy,
Stretching his lazy limbs on the rough straw,
In vacant happiness. A tatter’d sack
Cover’d his sturdy loins, while his rude legs
Were deck’d with uncouth patches of all hues,
Iris and jet, through which his sun-burnt skin
Peep’d forth in dainty contrast. He was a glory
For painter’s eye; and his quaint draperies
Would harmonize with some fair sylvan scene,
Where arching groves, and flower-embroider’d banks,