If you should chance to find me gone
absent from spinning wheel and loom
dasher idle in the butter churn

If you survey the fields and hills
to find me not at work in the garden
and not returning from the spring

If you should look around to find
sewing cast aside
dishes strewn unwashed on the hearth

It could be

     I've wandered off alone down to the river

     to lose myself in the cool flow.