To door, wi’ downcast hearts, to miss
Wi’ smiles below the clematis,
Young Meäry Meäd o’ merry mood,
Vor she’s a-woo’d an’ wedded.
When they do draw the evenèn blind,
An’ when the evenèn light’s a-tin’d,
The cheerless vier do drow a gleäre
O’ light ageän her empty chair;
An’ wordless gaps do now meäke thin
Their talk where woonce her vaïce come in.
Zoo lwonesome is her empty pleäce,
An’ blest the house that ha’ the feäce
O’ Meäry Meäd, o’ merry mood,
Now she’s a-woo’d and wedded.
The day she left her father’s he’th,
Though sad, wer kept a day o’ me’th,
An’ dry-wheel’d waggons’ empty beds
Wer left ’ithin the tree-screen’d sheds;
An’ all the hosses, at their eäse,
Went snortèn up the flow’ry leäse,
But woone, the smartest for the roäd,
That pull’d away the dearest lwoad—
Young Meäry Meäd o’ merry mood,
That wer a-woo’d an’ wedded.
THE STWONEN BWOY UPON THE PILLAR.
Wi’ smokeless tuns an’ empty halls,
An’ moss a-clingèn to the walls,
In ev’ry wind the lofty tow’rs
Do teäke the zun, an’ bear the show’rs;
An’ there, ’ithin a geät a-hung,
But vasten’d up, an’ never swung.
