Woman
Further yet, stranger.
Wanderer
Lo, an inscription whereupon I tread,
But all illegible,
Worn out by wayfarers are ye,
Which should show forth your Master’s piety,
Unto a thousand children’s children.
Woman
In wonder, stranger, dost thou gaze
Upon these stones?
Up yonder round my cot
Are many such.
Wanderer
Up yonder?
Woman
Leftwards directly
On through the underwood,
Here!