An’ many times when I do vind
Things all goo wrong, an’ vo’k unkind,
To zee the happy veedèn herds,
An’ hear the zingèn o’ the birds,
Do soothe my sorrow mwore than words;
Vor I do zee that ’tis our sin
Do meäke woone’s soul so dark ’ithin.
When God would gi’e woone zunsheen.
THE WOODLANDS.
O spread ageän your leaves an’ flow’rs,
Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands!
Here underneath the dewy show’rs
O’ warm-aïr’d spring-time, zunny woodlands!
As when, in drong or open ground,
Wi’ happy bwoyish heart I vound
The twitt’rèn birds a-buildèn round
Your high-bough’d hedges, zunny woodlands
You gie’d me life, you gie’d me jaÿ,
Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands
You gie’d me health, as in my plaÿ
I rambled through ye, zunny woodlands!
You gie’d me freedom, vor to rove
In aïry meäd or sheädy grove;
You gie’d me smilèn Fannèy’s love.
The best ov all o’t, zunny woodlands!
My vu’st shrill skylark whiver’d high,
Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands!
To zing below your deep-blue sky
An’ white spring-clouds, O zunny woodlands!
An’ boughs o’ trees that woonce stood here,
