No. If he do ride at night
Vrom the zide the zun went under,
Woone hour vrom his western light
Needen meäke woone hour asunder;
Woone hour onward, woone hour nigher
To the hopeful eastern skies,
Where his mornèn rim o’ vier
Soon ageän shall meet his eyes.
Leaves be now a-scatter’d round
In the wind, a-blowèn bleaker,
An’ if we do walk the ground
Wi’ our life-strangth woone year weaker.
Woone year weaker, woone year nigher
To the pleäce where we shall vind
Woone that’s deathless vor the dier,
Voremost they that dropp’d behind.
LIZZIE.
O Lizzie is so mild o’ mind,
Vor ever kind, an’ ever true;
A-smilèn, while her lids do rise
To show her eyes as bright as dew.
An’ comely do she look at night,
A-dancèn in her skirt o’ white,
An’ blushèn wi’ a rwose o’ red
Bezide her glossy head.
Feäir is the rwose o’ blushèn hue,
Behung wi’ dew, in mornèn’s hour,
Feäir is the rwose, so sweet below
The noontide glow, bezide the bow’r.
Vull feäir, an’ eet I’d rather zee
The rwose a-gather’d off the tree,
An’ bloomèn still with blossom red,
By Lizzie’s glossy head.
