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"D' ye know what the diggins the squire did it for, Gaffer Solomons?" asked one many-childed matron, with a baby in arms, an urchin of three years old clinging fast to her petticoat, and her hand maternally holding back a more adventurous hero of six, who had a great desire to thrust his head into one of the grisly apertures.
"Many light hearts and wings" she had at least the bird's heart, and the poet lent to her voice the wings of his verses. There is nothing in our poetry less modern than she. The vagrant woman of later feeling was rather the sane creature of Ebenezer Elliott's fine lines in "The Excursion" Bone-weary, many-childed, trouble-tried! Wife of my bosom, wedded to my soul!
"D' ye know what the diggins the squire did it for, Gaffer Solomons?" asked one many-childed matron, with a baby in arms, an urchin of three years old clinging fast to her petticoat, and her hand maternally holding back a more adventurous hero of six, who had a great desire to thrust his head into one of the grisly apertures.
"Many light hearts and wings" she had at least the bird's heart, and the poet lent to her voice the wings of his verses. There is nothing in our poetry less modern than she. The vagrant woman of later feeling was rather the sane creature of Ebenezer Elliott's fine lines in "The Excursion" Bone-weary, many-childed, trouble-tried! Wife of my bosom, wedded to my soul!
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