Zoo like her, that my eyes can treäce
The mother’s in her daughter’s feäce.
O little feäce so near to me,
An’ like thy mother’s gone; why need I zay
Sweet night cloud, wi’ the glow o’ my lost day,
Thy looks be always dear to me.
The zun’d a-zet another night;
But, by the moon on high,
He still did zend us back his light
Below a cwolder sky.
My Meäry’s in a better land
I thought, but still her chile’s at hand,
An’ in her chile she’ll zend me on
Her love, though she herzelf’s a-gone.
O little chile so near to me,
An’ like thy mother gone; why need I zay,
Sweet moon, the messenger vrom my lost day,
Thy looks be always dear to me.
THE LEÄDY’S TOWER.
An’ then we went along the gleädes
O’ zunny turf, in quiv’rèn sheädes,
A-windèn off, vrom hand to hand,
Along a path o’ yollow zand,
An’ clomb a stickle slope, an’ vound
An open patch o’ lofty ground,
Up where a steätely tow’r did spring,
So high as highest larks do zing.
“Oh! Meäster Collins,” then I zaid,
A-lookèn up wi’ back-flung head;
Vor who but he, so mild o’ feäce,
Should teäke me there to zee the pleäce.
