From stalwart strider by the wagon-side,

Brightening the acre with his purple blouse,

To those dark-featured comely women-folk,

Healthy and tall, at work, and work indeed,

On every cottage doorstep, plying brisk

Bobbins that bob you ladies out such lace!

Oh, you observed! and how that nimble play

Of finger formed the sole exception, bobbed

The one disturbance to the peace of things,

Where nobody esteems it worth his while,