Classic Poem

At Woodcombe farm, wi' ground an' tree
Hallow'd by times o' youthvul glee,
At Chris'mas time I spent a night
Wi' feäces dearest to my zight;
An' took my wife to tread, woonce mwore,
Her maiden hwome's vorseäken vloor,
An' under stars that slowly wheel'd
Aloft, above the keen-air'd vield,
While night bedimm'd the rus'len copse,
An' darken'd all the ridges' tops,
The hall, a-hung wi' holly, rung
Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young.

There, on the he'th's well-hetted ground,
Hallow'd by times o' zitten round,
The brimvul mug o' cider stood
An' hiss'd avore the bleäzen wood;
An' zome, a-zitten knee by knee,
Did tell their teäles wi' hearty glee,
An' others gamboll'd in a roar
O' laughter on the stwonen vloor;
An' while the moss o' winter-tide
Clung chilly roun' the house's zide,
The hall, a-hung wi' holly, rung
Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young

There, on the pworches bench o' stwone,
Hallow'd by times o' youthvul fun,
We laugh'd an' sigh'd to think o' neämes
That rung there woonce, in evenen geämes;
An' while the swaÿèen cypress bow'd,
In chilly wind, his darksome sh'oud
An' honeyzuckles, beäre o' leäves,
Still reach'd the window-sheäden eaves
Up where the clematis did trim
The stwonen arches mossy rim,
The hall, a-hung wi' holly, rung
Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young.

There, in the geärden's wall-bound square,
Hallow'd by times o' strollen there,
The winter wind, a-hufflen loud,
Did swaÿè the pear-tree's leafless sh'oud,
An' beät the bush that woonce did bear
The damask rwose vor Jenny's heäir;
An' there the walk o' peäven stwone
That burn'd below the zummer zun,
Struck icy-cwold drough shoes a-wore
By maidens vrom the hetted vloor
In hall, a-hung wi' holm, where rung
Vull many a tongue o' wold an' young.

There at the geäte that woonce wer blue
Hallow'd by times o' passen drough,
Light strawmotes rose in flaggen flight,
A-floated by the winds o' night,
Where leafy ivy-stems did crawl
In moonlight on the windblown wall,
An' merry maidens' vaices vled
In echoes sh'ill, vrom wall to shed,
As shiv'ren in their frocks o' white
They come to bid us there " Good night, "
Vrom hall, a-hung wi' holm, that rung
Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young.

There in the narrow leäne an' drong
Hallow'd by times o' gwain along,
The lofty ashes' leafless sh'ouds
Rose dark avore the clear-edged clouds,
The while the moon, at girtest height,
Bespread the pooly brook wi' light,
An' as our child, in loose-limb'd rest,
Lay peäle upon her mother's breast,
Her waxen eyelids seal'd her eyes
Vrom darksome trees, an' sheenen skies,
An' halls a-hung wi' holm, that rung
Wi' many a tongue, o' wold an' young.