Four little walls of conquina stone,

Rude thatch of palmetto leaves;

There[835] they have nestled, like birds in a tree,[836]

From winter, and labor, and hunger free,

Taking from earth their small need, but no more;

No thought of the morrow,[837] no laying in store.

No gathering patient sheaves.

Alone in their southern island home,

Through the year of summer days,

The two live on; and the bountiful beach[838]