Then, though the zummer zun mid glow,
Or though the Winter win’ mid blow,
They’d leäp upon the saddle’s bow,
An’ goo, lik’ Ruth, a-ridèn.
While evenèn light do sof’ly gild
The moss upon the elem’s bark,
Avore the zingèn bird’s a-still’d.
Or woods be dim, or day is dark,
Wi’ quiv’rèn grass avore his breast,
In cowslip beds, do lie at rest,
The ho’se that now do goo the best
Wi’ rwosy Ruth a-ridèn.
BEAUTY UNDECKED.
The grass mid sheen when wat’ry beäds
O’ dew do glitter on the meäds,
An’ thorns be bright when quiv’rèn studs
O’ raïn do hang upon their buds—
As jewels be a-meäde by art
To zet the plaïnest vo’k off smart
But sheäkèn ivy on its tree,
An’ low-bough’d laurel at our knee,
Be bright all day, without the gleäre,
O’ drops that duller leäves mid weär—
As Jeäne is feäir to look upon
In plaïnest gear that she can don.
MY LOVE IS GOOD.
My love is good, my love is feäir,
She’s comely to behold, O,
In ev’rything that she do wear,
Altho’ ’tis new or wold, O.
