Noo crowd’s a-passèn to and fro,
Upon the bridge’s high-sprung bow:
An’ vew but I do seek the door
Ov Ellen Dare o’ Lindenore.
Vor there the town, wi’ zun-bright walls,
Do sheen vur off, by hills o’ grey,
An’ town-vo’k ha’ but seldom calls
O’ business there, from day to day:
But Ellen didden leäve her ruf
To be admir’d, an’ that’s enough—
Vor I’ve a-vound ’ithin her door,
Feäir Ellen Dare o’ Lindenore.
ME’TH BELOW THE TREE.
O when theäse elems’ crooked boughs,
A’most too thin to sheäde the cows,
Did slowly swing above the grass
As winds o’ Spring did softly pass,
An’ zunlight show’d the shiftèn sheäde,
While youthful me’th wi’ laughter loud,
Did twist his lim’s among the crowd
Down there below; up there above
Wer bright-ey’d me’th below the tree.
Down there the merry vo’k did vill
The stwonèn doorway, now so still;
An’ zome did joke, wi’ ceäsement wide,
Wi’ other vo’k a-stood outside,
Wi’ words that head by head did heed.
Below blue sky an’ blue-smok’d tun,
’Twer jaÿ to zee an’ hear their fun,
But sweeter jaÿ up here above
Wi’ bright-ey’d me’th below the tree.
