But vootless wer the stwone avore
The house where I, the maïden’s guest,
At evenèn, woonce did zit at rest
By moonlight on the door.
Though till the dawn, where night’s a-meäde
The day, the laughèn crowds be gaÿ,
Let evenèn zink wi’ quiet sheäde,
Where I do hold my little swaÿ.
An’ childern dear to my heart’s core,
A-sleep wi’ little heavèn breast,
That pank’d by day in plaÿ, do rest
Wi’ moonlight on the door.
But still ’tis good, woonce now an’ then,
To rove where moonlight on the land
Do show in vaïn, vor heedless men,
The road, the vield, the work in hand.
When curtains be a-hung avore
The glitt’rèn windows, snowy white,
An’ vine-leaf sheädes do sheäke in light
O’ moonlight on the door.
MY LOVE’S GUARDIAN ANGEL.
As in the cool-aïr’d road I come by,
—in the night,
Under the moon-clim’d height o’ the sky,
—in the night,
There by the lime’s broad lim’s as I staÿ’d,
Dark in the moonlight, bough’s sheädows plaÿ’d
Up on the window-glass that did keep
Lew vrom the wind, my true love asleep,
—in the night
While in the grey-wall’d height o’ the tow’r,
