The grass mid sheen when wat'ry beäds
O' dew do glitter on the meäds,
An' thorns be bright when quiv'ren studs
O' rain do hang upon their buds —
As jewels be a-meäde by art
To zet the plainest vo'k off smart

But sheäken ivy on its tree,
An' low-bough'd laurel at our knee,
Be bright all däy, without the gleäre,
O' drops that duller leäves mid weär —
As Jeäne is feäir to look upon
In plainest gear that she can don.