The leäne do lose the stalkèn team,
An’ dry-rimm’d waggon-wheels be still,
An’ hills do roll their down-shot stream
Below the restèn wheel at mill.
O holy day, when tweil do ceäse,
Sweet day o’ rest an’ greäce an’ peäce!
The eegrass, vor a while unwrung
By hoof or shoe, ’s a sheenèn bright,
An’ clover flowers be a-sprung
On new-mow’d knaps in beds o’ white,
An’ sweet wild rwoses, up among
The hedge-row boughs, do yield their smells,
To aïer that do bear along
The loud-rung peals o’ Zunday bells,
Upon the day o’ days the best,
The day o’ greäce an’ peace an’ rest.
By brightshod veet, in peäir an’ peäir,
Wi’ comely steps the road’s a-took
To church, an’ work-free han’s do beär
Woone’s walkèn stick or sister’s book;
An’ there the bloomèn niece do come
To zee her aunt, in all her best;
Or married daughter do bring hwome
Her vu’st sweet child upon her breast,
As she do seek the holy pleäce,
The day o’ rest an’ peäce an’ greäce.
THE PILLAR’D GEÄTE.
As I come by, zome years agoo,
A-burnt below a sky o’ blue,
’Ithin the pillar’ d geäte there zung
