Page:Poems and lyrics of the joy of earth.djvu/123

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Still in my view mile-distant firs appeared, When, under a patched channel-bank enriched
 * With foxglove whose late bells drooped seared,
 * Behold, a family had pitched

Their camp, and labouring the low tent upreared.

Here, too, were many children, quick to scan A new thing coming; swarthy cheeks, white teeth
 * In many-coloured rags they ran,
 * Like iron runlets of the heath.

Dispersed lay broth-pot, sticks, and drinking-can.

Three girls, with shoulders like a boat at sea Tipped sideways by the wave (their clothing slid
 * From either ridge unequally),
 * Lean, swift, and voluble, bestrid

A starting-point, unfrocked to the bent knee.