EVENÈN IN THE VILLAGE.
Now the light o’ the west is a-turn’d to gloom,
An’ the men be at hwome vrom ground;
An’ the bells be a-zendèn all down the Coombe
From tower, their mwoansome sound.
An’ the wind is still,
An’ the house-dogs do bark,
An’ the rooks be a-vled to the elems high an’ dark.
An’ the water do roar at mill.
An’ the flickerèn light drough the window-peäne
Vrom the candle’s dull fleäme do shoot.
An’ young Jemmy the smith is a-gone down leäne,
A-plaÿèn his shrill-vaïced flute.
An’ the miller’s man
Do zit down at his ease
On the seat that is under the cluster o’ trees,
Wi’ his pipe an’ his cider can.
MAY.
Come out o’door, ’tis Spring! ’tis Maÿ
The trees be green, the vields be gaÿ;
The weather’s warm, the winter blast,
Wi’ all his traïn o’ clouds, is past;
The zun do rise while vo’k do sleep.
To teäke a higher daily zweep,
Wi’ cloudless feäce a-flingèn down
His sparklèn light upon the groun’.
The aïr’s a-streamèn soft,—come drow
The windor open; let it blow
