An Aged Yeoman

I mounted to a mount, By viewing the astonishing scenery, I mounted on a slippery hill, Hearing voices that is a peril.... I saw an aged yeoman working On his filed, Albeit his hard effort lead him to weary.... I ran toward him To give him hands, His smile told a sad story In the middle of the woods, I offered him some alms With proud sympathetic look... He refused it and Told his yonder story, The peasant's land is the dot From his beloved wife..., Left him and turned to soul Made a silent noise in his heart ; He spent his rest of life With his wife's dot, Living in the memory of her For the rest of his life.... Which ended my proud to abysmal And created a great respect on him - In that big Mount woods.