As gipsy maiden, with her silver bells
Tinkling around her heels. At length the dawn
Recalls the joyous throng to other scenes;
And soon the last gay visiter has bade
His warm good-by—and the old house is still.
Left all alone, in calm security,
Straight in his oaken-chair of antique form,
Within his hall, the farmer sits and sleeps,
While the fierce house-dog watches at his feet.
Sweet hour of plenteous ease, when care puts off