Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/387

327 'Twas all in vain, a useless matter,—

And blankets were about him pinn'd;

Yet still his jaws and teeth they clatter,

Like a loose casement in the wind.

And Harry's flesh it fell away;

And all who see him say, 'tis plain,

That, live as long as live he may,

He never will be warm again.

No word to any man he utters,

A-bed or up, to young or old;

But ever to himself he mutters,

"Poor Harry Gill is very cold."

A-bed or up, by night or day;

His teeth they chatter, chatter still.

Now think, ye farmers all, I pray,

Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill.