Except where door or lattice to the air
A passage yields,—and from the walls now start
The rafters, matted over and between,—
Against the storm and cold,—with rushes green.
X.
Long did this task his patient cares engage,
’Twas labor strange to hands like his, I ween,
That had far oftener turned the sacred page
Than hewed the trunk or delved the grassy green;
But toils like these gave honors to the sage;