Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/268

208 Wool for the Housewife's spindle, or repair

Some injury done to sickle, flail, or scythe,

Or other implement of house or field.

Down from the cieling, by the chimney's edge,

Which in our ancient uncouth country style

Did with a huge projection overbrow

Large space beneath, as duly as the light

Of day grew dim the Housewife hung a Lamp;

An aged utensil, which had performed

Service beyond all others of its kind.

Early at evening did it burn and late,

Surviving Comrade of uncounted Hours,

Which going by from year to year had found

And left the couple neither gay perhaps

Nor cheerful, yet with objects and with hopes,

Living a life of eager industry.

And now, when was in his eighteenth year,

There by the light of this old Lamp they sat,

Father and Son, while late into the night

The Housewife plied her own peculiar work,

Making the cottage through the silent hours

Murmur as with the sound of summer flies.

This Light was famous in its neighbourhood,