Classic Poem

A-riden slow, at lofty height,
Wer clouds, a-blown along the sky,
O' purple-blue, an' pink, an' white,
In pack an' pile, a-reachen high,
A-shiften off, as they did goo,
Their sheapes vrom new ageän to new.

An' zome like rocks an' tow'rs o' stwone,
Or hills or woods, a-reachen wide;
An' zome like roads, wi' doust a-blown,
A-glitt'ren white up off their zide,
A-comen bright, ageän to feäde
In sheäpes a-meäde to be unmeäde.

Zoo things do come, but never stand,
In life. It mid be smiles or tears,
A jaÿ in hope, an' one in hand,
Zome grounds o' grief, an' zome o' fears;
It mid be good, or mid be ill,
But never long a-standen still.