An owl a-vleèn drough the wood
Wer men on watch vor little good;
An’ geätes a slam’d by wind, did goo,
She thought, to let a robber drough.
But after all, she lik’d the zight
O’ cows asleep in glitt’r`rn dew;
An’ brooks that gleam’d below the light,
An’ dim vield paths ’ithout a shoe.
An’ gaïly talk’d bezide my ears,
A-laughèn off her needless fears:
Or had the childern uppermost
In mind, instead o’ thief or ghost.
An’ when our house, wi’ open door,
Did rumble hollow round our heads,
She heästen’d up to tother vloor,
To zee the childern in their beds;
An’ vound woone little head awry,
Wi’ woone a-turn’d toward the sky;
An’ wrung her hands ageän her breast,
A-smilèn at their happy rest.
ZUN-ZET.
Where the western zun, unclouded,
Up above the grey hill-tops,
Did sheen drough ashes, lofty sh’ouded.
On the turf bezide the copse,
In zummer weather,
We together,
Sorrow-slightèn, work-vorgettèn.
Gambol’d wi’ the zun a-zetten.
There, by flow’ry bows o’ bramble,
Under hedge, in ash-tree sheädes,
