Classic Poem

When yet I met the sweetest looks,
To let em goo, though winsome feäir,
As gaily light as thistle down
In flight, to be a-caught elsewhere;
Then I went free as birds on wing,
A-waiten, meäteless, vor the spring.

An' when, at last, my hov'ren mind
Zet vast on you, noo mwore to roam,
An' Easter-tide did bring on you
To guide vor me my hopevul hwome,
The winter went in jaÿè to bring,
By week on week, the happy spring.

Then wild mid roll wi' hissen foam,
By shoal an' cliff, the flooded brook,
An' loud mid roar the hufflen storm,
By door an' tun, by tree an' nook:
" Roll flood, an' vlee, O wind, on wing,"
I thought, " you'll goo to bring the spring."

Now grammer, leäte in life, ha' vound
Her meäte vorseäke her on her road;
Mwore woone than two they spent their years,
Wi' vew they ever misbestow'd;
But she do vow she'll come an' spy
If we be happy, you and I.

Drough time an' tide mid you be by
My zide, a-blest wi' peace an' health;
If times be bad, wi' hope a-left,
In gladness in the time o' wealth.
Mid years as vur as years do bring
On me, bring you to zee my spring.