Men toiled for pleasure more than pay,
And all went smoothly day by day,
Till, in due course, the transept part
Engrossed the master-mason’s art.
—Home-coming thence he tossed and turned
Throughout the night till the new sun burned.
“What fearful visions have inspired
These gaingivings?” his wife inquired;
“As if your tools were in your hand
You have hammered, fitted, muttered, planned;
“You have thumped as you were working hard:
I might have found me bruised and scarred.
“What then’s amiss. What eating care
Looms nigh, whereof I am unaware?”
He answered not, but churchward went,
Viewing his draughts with discontent;
And fumbled there the livelong day
Till, hollow-eyed, he came away.
—’Twas said, “The master-mason’s ill!”
And all the abbey works stood still.