Few blows I get, some hay, and of water many a draught:
I tell you he's no coster that sits upon my shaft!
And for the knacker's yard--that's not my destined bed:
No donkey ever yet saw himself there lying dead.
_ROOM TO ROAM_.
Strait is the path? He means we must not roam?
Yes; but the strait path leads into a boundless home.
_COTTAGE SONGS_.