Classic Poem

The toiling fisher here is tewing of his net:
The fowler is employed his limed twigs to set.
One underneath his horse, to get a shoot doth stalk;
Another over dykes upon his stilts doth walk:
There others with their spades the peats are squaring out,
And others from their carrs are busily about,
To draw out sedge and reed, for thatch and stover fit
That whosoever would a landskip rightly hit,
Beholding but my fens shall with more shapes be stored
Than Germany, or France, or Thuscan can afford.