His days had not been passed in singleness. 
  His Helpmate was a comely matron, old—­[9]
  Though younger than himself full twenty years. 80
  She was a woman of a stirring life,
  Whose heart was in her house:  two wheels she had
  Of antique form; this large, for spinning wool;
  That small, for flax; and if one wheel had rest,
  It was because the other was at work. 85
  The Pair had but one inmate in their house,
  An only Child, who had been born to them
  When Michael, telling o’er his years, began
  To deem that he was old,—­in shepherd’s phrase,
  With one foot in the grave.  This only Son, 90
  With two brave sheep-dogs tried in many a storm,
  The one of an inestimable worth,
  Made all their household.  I may truly say,
  That they were as a proverb in the vale
  For endless industry.  When day was gone, 95
  And from their occupations out of doors
  The Son and Father were come home, even then,
  Their labour did not cease; unless when all
  Turned to the [10] cleanly supper-board, and there,
  Each with a mess of pottage and skimmed milk, 100
  Sat round the [11] basket piled with oaten cakes,
  And their plain home-made cheese.  Yet when the [12] meal
  Was ended, Luke (for so the Son was named)
  And his old Father both betook themselves
  To such convenient work as might employ 105
  Their hands by the fire-side; perhaps to card
  Wool for the Housewife’s spindle, or repair
  Some injury done to sickle, flail, or scythe,
  Or other implement of house or field.

  Down from the ceiling, by the chimney’s edge, 110
  That [13] in our ancient uncouth country style
  With huge and black projection overbrowed [14]
  Large space beneath, as duly as the light
  Of day grew dim the Housewife hung a lamp;
  An aged utensil, which had performed 115
  Service beyond all others of its kind. 
  Early at evening did it burn—­and late,
  Surviving comrade of uncounted hours,
  Which, going by from year to year, had found,
  And left the couple neither gay perhaps 120
  Nor cheerful, yet with objects and with hopes,
  Living a life of eager industry. 
  And now, when Luke had reached his [15] eighteenth year,
  There by the light of this old lamp they sate,
  Father and Son, while far [16] into the night 125
  The Housewife plied her own peculiar work,
  Making the cottage through the silent hours
  Murmur as with the sound of summer flies. [B]
  [17] This [18] light was famous in its neighbourhood,
  And was a public symbol of the life 130
  That [19] thrifty Pair had lived.