How soft do sheäke the zummer hedge—
How soft do sway the zummer zedge—
How bright be zummer skies an’ zun—
How bright the zummer brook do run;
An’ feäir the flow’rs do bloom, to feäde
Behind the swaÿen mower’s bleäde;
An’ sweet be merry looks o’ jaÿ,
By weäles an’ pooks o’ June’s new haÿ,
Wi’ smilèn age, an laughèn youth,
Bezide the zummer hedge in blooth.
THE WATER CROWVOOT.
O’ small-feäc’d flow’r that now dost bloom
To stud wi’ white the shallow Frome,
An’ leäve the clote to spread his flow’r
On darksome pools o’ stwoneless Stour,
When sof’ly-rizèn aïrs do cool
The water in the sheenèn pool,
Thy beds o’ snow-white buds do gleam
So feäir upon the sky-blue stream,
As whitest clouds, a-hangèn high
Avore the blueness o’ the sky;
An’ there, at hand, the thin-heäir’d cows,
In aïry sheädes o’ withy boughs,
Or up bezide the mossy raïls,
Do stan’ an’ zwing their heavy taïls,
The while the ripplèn stream do flow
Below the dousty bridge’s bow;
An’ quiv’rèn water-gleams do mock
The weäves, upon the sheäded rock;
An’ up athirt the copèn stwone
The laïtren bwoy do lean alwone,
A-watchèn, wi’ a stedvast look,
