Brighten’d streams, an’ dried the dew,
An’ the goocoo there did greet
Passers by wi’ dousty veet.
There the milkmaïd hung her brow
By the cow, a-sheenèn red;
An’ the dog, wi’ upward looks,
Watch’d the rooks above his head,
An’ the brook, vrom bow to bow,
Here went swift, an’ there wer slow.
Now the cwolder-blowèn blast,
Here do cast vrom elems’ heads
Feäded leaves, a-whirlèn round,
Down to ground, in yollow beds,
Ruslèn under milkers’ shoes,
When the day do dry the dews.
Soon shall grass, a-vrosted bright,
Glisten white instead o’ green,
An’ the wind shall smite the cows,
Where the boughs be now their screen.
Things do change as years do vlee;
What ha’ years in store vor me?
Eclogue.
RACKETÈN JOE.
Racketèn Joe; his Sister; his Cousin Fanny; and the Dog.
RACKETÈN JOE.
Heigh! heigh! here. Who’s about?
