Classic Poem

Dear Yarrowham, 'twer many miles
Vrom thy green meäds that, in my walk,
I met a maïd wi' winnèn smiles,
That talk'd as vo'k at hwome do talk;
An' who at last should she be vound,
Ov all the souls the sky do bound,
But woone that trod at vu'st thy groun'
Fair Emily ov Yarrow Mill.

But thy wold house an' elmy nook,
An' wall-screen'd geärden's mossy zides,
Thy grassy meäds an' zedgy brook,
An' high-bank'd leänes, wi' sheädy rides,
Wer all a-known to me by light
Ov eärly days, a-quench'd by night,
Avore they met the younger zight
Ov Emily ov Yarrow Mill.

An' now my heart do leäp to think
O' times that I've a-spent in plaÿ,
Bezide thy river's rushy brink,
Upon a deäizybed o' Maÿ;
I lov'd the friends thy land ha' bore,
An' I do love the paths they wore,
An' I do love thee all the mwore,
Vor Emily ov Yarrow Mill.

When bright above the e'th below
The moon do spread abroad his light,
An' aïr o' zummer nights do blow
Athirt the vields in plaÿsome flight,
'Tis then delightsome under all
The sheädes o' boughs by path or wall,
But mwostly thine when they do vall
On Emily ov Yarrow Mill.