Classic Poem

The church do zeem a touchen zight,
When vo'k, a-comen in at door,
Do softly tread the long-ailed vloor
Below the pillar'd arches' height,
Wi' bells a-pealen,
Vo'k a-kneelen,
Hearts a-healen, wi' the love
An' peäce a-zent em vrom above.

An' there, wi' mild an' thoughtvul feäce,
Wi' downcast eyes, an' vaices dum',
The wold an' young do slowly come,
An' teäke in stillness each his pleäce,
A-zinken slowly,
Kneelen lowly,
Seeken holy thoughts alwone,
In pray'r avore their Meäker's throne.

An' there be sons in youthvul pride,
An' fathers weak, wi' years an' pain,
An' daughters in their mother's train,
The tall wi' smaller at their zide;
Heads in murnen
Never turnen,
Cheäks a-burnen, wi' the het
O' youth, an' eyes noo tears do wet.

There friends do settle, zide by zide,
The knower speechless to the known;
Their vaice is there vor God alwone,
To flesh an' blood their tongues be tied.
Grief a-wringen,
Ja a-zingen,
Pray'r a-bringen welcome rest
So softly to the troubled breast.