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| WITHIN a low-thatch’d hut, built in a lane | |
| Whose narrow pathway tendeth toward the ocean, | |
| A solitude which, save of some rude swain | |
| Or fisherman, doth scarce know human motion— | |
| Or of some silent poet, to the main | 5 |
| Straying, to offer infinite devotion | |
| To God, in the free universe—there dwelt | |
| Two women old, to whom small store was dealt | |
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| Of the world’s misnam’d good: mother and child, | |
| Both aged and mateless. These two life sustain’d | 10 |
| By braiding fishing-nets; and so beguil’d | |
| Time and their cares, and little e’er complain’d | |
| Of Fate or Providence: resign’d and mild, | |
| Whilst day by day, for years, their hour-glass rain’d | |
| Its trickling sand, to track the wing of time, | 15 |
| They toil’d in peace; and much there was sublime | |
| |
| In their obscure contentment: of mankind | |
| They little knew, or reck’d; but for their being | |
| They bless’d their Maker, with a simple mind; | |
| And in the constant gaze of his all-seeing | 20 |
| Eye, to his poorest creatures never blind, | |
| Deeming they dwelt, they bore their sorrows fleeing, | |
| Glad still to live, but not afraid to die, | |
| In calm expectance of Eternity. | |
| |
| And since I first did greet those braiders poor, | 25 |
| If ever I behold fair women’s cheeks | |
| Sin-pale in stately mansions, where the door | |
| Is shut to all but pride, my cleft heart seeks | |
| For refuge in my thoughts, which then explore | |
| That pathway lone near which the wild sea breaks, | 30 |
| And to Imagination’s humble eyes | |
| That hut, with all its want, is Paradise! | |
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