… and now on that, Repeated through his tributary vales, Helvellyn, in the silence of his rest, Sees annually, if clouds towards either ocean Blown from their favourite resting-place, or mists Dissolved, have left him an unshrouded head. … or a blind, the one to beg, The other to make music; hither, too, From far, with basket, slung upon her arm, Of hawker's wares—books, pictures, combs, and pins— Some aged woman finds her way again, Year after year, a punctual visitant! There … lass of the valley, looking out For gains, and who that sees her would not buy? Fruits of her father's orchard, are her wares, And with the ruddy produce, she walks round Among the crowd, half pleased with half ashamed Of her new office, …