Oh! when, at last, my fleshly eyes Shall shut upon the vields an’ skies, Mid zummer’s zunny days be gone, An’ winter’s clouds be comen on:  Nor mid I draw upon the e’th, O’ thy sweet air my leaetest breath; Alassen I mid want to staey Behine’ for thee, O flow’ry May!

     MILKEN TIME

     ‘Poems of Rural Life’

     ’Twer when the busy birds did vlee,
     Wi’ sheenen wings, vrom tree to tree,
     To build upon the mossy lim’
     Their hollow nestes’ rounded rim;
     The while the zun, a-zinken low,
     Did roll along his evenen bow,
     I come along where wide-horn’d cows,
     ’Ithin a nook, a-screen’d by boughs,
     Did stan’ an’ flip the white-hooped pails
     Wi’ heaeiry tufts o’ swingen tails;
     An’ there were Jenny Coom a-gone
     Along the path a vew steps on,
     A-beaeren on her head, upstraight,
     Her pail, wi’ slowly-riden waight,
     An hoops a-sheenen, lily-white,
     Ageaen the evenen’s slanten light;
     An’ zo I took her pail, an’ left
     Her neck a-freed vrom all his heft;
     An’ she a-looken up an’ down,
     Wi’ sheaeply head an’ glossy crown,
     Then took my zide, an’ kept my peaece,
     A-talken on wi’ smilen feaece,
     An’ zetten things in sich a light,
     I’d fain ha’ heaer’d her talk all night;
     An’ when I brought her milk avore
     The geaete, she took it in to door,
     An’ if her pail had but allow’d
     Her head to vall, she would ha’ bow’d;
     An’ still, as ’twer, I had the zight
     Ov’ her sweet smile, droughout the night.

JESSIE LEE

Above the timber’s benden sh’ouds,
The western wind did softly blow;
An’ up avore the knap, the clouds
Did ride as white as driven snow. 
Vrom west to east the clouds did zwim
Wi’ wind that plied the elem’s lim’;
Vrom west to east the stream did glide,
A sheenen wide, wi’ winden brim.

How feaeir, I thought, avore the sky
The slowly-zwimmen clouds do look;
How soft the win’s a-streamen by;
How bright do roll the weaevy brook: 
When there, a-passen on my right,
A-walken slow, an’ treaden light,
Young Jessie Lee come by, an’ there
Took all my ceaere, an’ all my zight.

Vor lovely wer the looks her feaece
Held up avore the western sky: 
An’ comely wer the steps her peaece
Did meaeke a-walken slowly by: 
But I went east, wi’ beaten breast,
Wi’ wind, an’ cloud, an’ brook, vor rest,
Wi’ rest a-lost, vor Jessie gone
So lovely on, toward the west.

Blow on, O winds, athirt the hill;
Zwim on, O clouds; O waters vall,
Down maeshy rocks, vrom mill to mill: 
I now can overlook ye all. 
But roll, O zun, an’ bring to me
My day, if such a day there be,
When zome dear path to my abode
Shall be the road o’ Jessie Lee.

THE TURNSTILE