Scarce touched the ragged road she trod,
And a pearly scallop-shell
Gleamed her pilgrim state to tell.
Dully, long I strove to see
What that which bore her train could be;
Now on this side, now on that,
Now it met a chiding pat,
For resting on her skirts to impede,
Impishly, her upward speed,
From frowning cliff and wayside stone,