CARRYING ANGELA

LEAVING our lodging, I have for a task
The prettiest, surely, an idler could ask—
Carrying Angela down to the beach,
A bundle of prattle, and soft as a peach.

Lazily watching the children, I find

Content for my heart and refreshment of mind,
Making a door in a sandy abode,

Or draining a ditch, or devising a road.

Home then to dinner all laden with shells,
With curious pebbles and flowering bells ;
Angela rides me, a mistress most fair,
Her heels at my chest and her fist in my hair.