The care-worn teacher homeward wends his way,
And freer feels than his free boys at play.
Yon roofless cot, which still the alders shade,
While all around is desolate and sere,
Perchance the dwelling of some village maid,
Who fondly watched her aged parents here;
And with her thrifty needle, or her wheel,
Earned for the lowly three the scanty meal.
Close by yon smithy stood the village inn,
Where farmers clinched each bargain o’er a glass;