And clashing wheel, and spindle’s force,
Oft drain thy faithful allies’ source,
Shetucket, with his roughened breast,
And Yantic, that I love the best;
While granite walls, and roofs of grace,
Usurp the moping owlet’s place.
Yes, thou art changed, the world hath made
High inroad on thy hermit shade.
But, say’st thou, that with spirit true
Thou keep’st a glorious goal in view;