Classic Poem

Above the leafless hazzle-wride
The wind-drove rain did quickly vall,
An' on the meäple's ribby zide
Did hang the rain-drops quiv'ren ball;
Out where the brook o' foamy yollow
Roll'd along the meäd's deep hollow,
An' noo birds wer out to beät,
Wi' flappen wings, the vleen wet
O' zunless clouds on flow'rless ground.
How time do bring the seasons round!

The moss, a-beät vrom trees, did lie
Upon the ground in ashen droves,
An' western wind did huffle high,
Above the sheds' quick-drippen oves.
An' where the ruslen straw did sound
So dry, a-shelter'd in the lew,
I staied alwone, an' weather-bound,
An' thought on times, long years agoo.
Wi' water-floods on flow'rless ground.
How time do bring the seasons round!

We then, in childhood plaÿè, did seem
In work o' men to teäke a peärt,
A-dreven on our wild bwoy team,
Or lwoaden o' the tiny cart.
Or, on our little refters, spread
The zedgen ruf above our head,
But coulden tell, as now we can,
Where each would goo to tweil a man
O jaÿès a-lost, an' jaÿès a-vound,
How Providence do bring things round!

Where woonce along the sky o' blue
The zun went roun' his longsome bow,
An' brighten'd, to my soul, the view
About our little farm below.
There I did plaÿè the merry geäme,
Wi' childern ev'ry holitide,
But coulden tell the vaice or neäme
That time would vind to be my bride.
O hwome a-left, O wife a-vound,
How Providence do bring things round!

An' when I took my manhood's pleäce,
A husband to a wife's true vow,
I never thought by neäme or feäce
O' childern that be round me now.
An' now they all do grow vrom small,
Drough life's feäir sheäpes to big an' tall,
I still be blind to God's good plan,
To pleäce em out as wife, or man.
O thread o' love by God unwound,
How He in time do bring things round;