Shepherd's Hut

The shepherd's hut, propt by the double ash,
Huge in its bulk and old in mossy age,
Shadowing the dammed-up brook, where, plash and plash,
The little mills did younkers' ears engage —
Delightful hut, rude as romances old,
Where huge old stones make each an easy chair,
With brake and fern for luxuries manifold,
And flint and steel are all that Want needs there.
The light was struck, and then the happy ring
Crouched round the blaze — O those were happy times!
Some telling tales, and others urged to sing,
Themes of old things, in rude yet feeling rhymes,
That raised the laugh, or stirred the stifled sigh,
Till Pity listened in each vacant eye.