“Dearie me, People’s William,” the young man cried.
“It grieves me to hear you speak so,
But still I should like” (here he gazed at the corn)
“Something more of your history to know.”
“In the years lately pass’d,” People’s William replied,
“I knew not the meaning of rest;
For I cut down big trees by way of relief,
Then return’d to my desk with new zest.
I wrote, towards the end, for some six magazines,
“Every month several pamphlets likewise,