My humble hut demands a right
To have its matter, birth and site
Described first! of ponderous logs
Whose bulk disdains the winds or fogs
The sides and ends are fitly raised
And by dove-tail each corner's brac'd;
Athwart the roof, young saplings lie
Which fire and smoke has now made dry—
Next straw wraps o'er the tender pale,
Next earth, then splints o'erlay the whole;