Classic Poem

How gaïly feäir the flow'ry land
In gleäre o' zummer light did look,
While roamen cows did stalk by meäds
Or brows o' leäzes by the brook;
An' wind did whirl an' curl,
An' zweep by streeches roun' our head
A smeech at ev'ry blast, a peck
At once, or spring wi' haÿ in meäd,
An' fling it up on Jenny's neck,
A-plaÿen round the zummer ground.

As water flow'd below our veet
An' show'd our sheädes in line an' hue,
A gust awoke in sudden flight
An' broke em up away vrom view,
In plaÿsome whirl an' curl.
An' while, wi' darksome sheäde, the zun
Did mark our sheäpe within the gleäde,
The wind brought by a sheäden cloud
On high, an' hid em, sheäde wi' sheäde,
A-streamen soft, wi' clouds aloft.

O winds to roll the thistledown
By knowl or meäd, in zummer light,
Or else to blow, in winter days,
The snow ageän my blinded zight,
Wi' many a whirl an' curl;
Or under rock or smooth-wall'd tow'r
To mock my zong, or ment my call,
Or swaÿ drough hours o' lwonesome night
My flow'rs in bloom, by ground or wall;
Come but soft, an' then come oft.