Blue tinct, and red, and green, and russet brown,
Besides some blots, standing for country-town;
And eke some rents, for streams and rivers wide;
But, sometimes, bashful when he looks adown,
He turns the garment of the other side,
Hopeful that so the holes may never be espied!
XI.
And soe he sits, amidst the little pack,
That look for shady or for sunny noon,
Within his visage, like an almanack,—