And merry voices greet her, and she sees
Her dear grandchildren, down the hill that come
To meet her, and to bear
Her basket home with care,
Divining that, of all her treasures, some
Will be for them to share.
Else, he that wishes solitude is safe,
Whether he bathe at morning in the stream:
Or lead his love there when the hot hours chafe
The meadows, busy with a blurring steam;