Come within the year to seek
Woone you have sought woonce a week?
Come while flow’rs be on the bow’rs,
And the bird o’ zong’s a-heärd.
Wull ye come?
Ees come to ye, an’ come vor ye, is my word,
I wull come.
ZUMMER WINDS.
Let me work, but mid noo tie
Hold me vrom the oben sky,
When zummer winds, in plaÿsome flight,
Do blow on vields in noon-day light,
Or ruslèn trees, in twilight night.
Sweet’s a stroll,
By flow’ry knowl, or blue-feäcèd pool
That zummer win’s do ruffle cool.
When the moon’s broad light do vill
Plaïns, a-sheenèn down the hill;
A-glitterèn on window glass,
O then, while zummer win’s do pass
The rippled brook, an’ swaÿèn grass,
Sweet’s a walk,
Where we do talk, wi’ feäces bright,
In whispers in the peacevul night.
When the swaÿèn men do mow
Flow’ry grass, wi’ zweepèn blow,
In het a-most enough to dry
The flat-spread clote-leaf that do lie
Upon the stream a-stealèn by,
Sweet’s their rest,
Upon the breast o’ knap or mound
Out where the goocoo’s vaïce do sound.
