Page:The Poems of John Dyer (1903).djvu/100

Equal the honeycomb. We next are shown
A circular machine, of new design,
In conic shape : it draws and spins a thread
Without the tedious toil of needless hands.
A wheel, invisible, beneath the floor, 295
To every member of th' harmonious frame
Gives necessary motion. One, intent,
O'erlooks the work : the carded wool, he says,
Is smoothly lapp'd around those cylinders,
Which, gently turning, yield it to yon' cirque 300
Of upright spindles, which with rapid whirl
Spin out, in long extent, an even twine.
From this delightful mansion (if we seek
Still more to view the gifts which honest toil
Distributes) take we now our eastward course 305
To the rich fields of Burstal. Wide around
Hillock and valley, farm and village, smile ;
And ruddy roofs and chimney-tops appear
Of busy Leeds, up-wafting to the clouds
The incense of thanksgiving : all is joy ; 310
And trade and bus'ness guide the living scene,
Roll the full cars, adown the winding Aire
Load the slow-sailing barges, pile the pack
On the long tinkling train of slow-pac'd steeds.
As when a sunny day invites abroad 315
The sedulous ants, they issue from their cells
In bands unnumber'd, eager for their work,
O'er high o'er low they lift, they draw, they haste
With warm affection to each other's aid,
Repeat their virtuous efforts, and succeed. 320
Thus all is here in motion, all is life :
The creaking wain brings copious store of corn ;
The grazier's sleeky kine obstruct the roads ;
The neat-dress'd housewives, for the festal board