Of winter, nor from summer’s sultry heat) 395
A friendly covert. “And they knew it well,”
Said she, “for thither as the trees grew up,
We to the patient creatures carried food
In times of heavy snow.” She then began
In fond obedience to her private thoughts 400
To speak of her dead husband. Is there not
An art, a music, and a strain of words
That shall be like the acknowledged voice of life,
Shall speak of what is done among the fields,