“Crawled forth from some rubbish and wink’d with one eye; Half opened the other, but could not tell why; Stretched out my left leg, as it felt rather queer, Then drew all together and slept for a year. Awaken’d, felt chilly—crept under a stone; Was vastly contented with living alone. One toe became wedged in the stone like a peg, Could not get it away—had the cramp in my leg: Began half to wish for a neighbour at hand To loosen the stone which was fast in the sand; Pull’d harder—then dozed as I found it no use;— Awoke the next summer, and lo! it was loose.” ...