In parrock there the haÿ did lie
In weäle below the elems, dry;
An’ up in hwome-groun’ Jim, that know’d
We all should come along thik road,
D a-tied the grass in knots that drow’d
Poor Poll, a-watchèn in the West
Woone brighter star than all the rest,—
The evenèn star o’ zummer.
The stars that still do zet an’ rise,
Did sheen in our forefather’s eyes;
They glitter’d to the vu’st men’s zight,
The last will have em in their night;
But who can vind em half so bright
As I thought thik peäle star above
My smilèn Jeäne, my zweet vu’st love,
The evenèn star o’ zummer.
How sweet’s the mornèn fresh an’ new,
Wi’ sparklèn brooks an’ glitt’rèn dew;
How sweet’s the noon wi’ sheädes a-drow’d
Upon the groun’ but leätely mow’d,
An’ bloomèn flowers all abrode;
But sweeter still, as I do clim’,
Theäse woody hill in evenèn dim
’S the evenèn star o’ zummer.
THE CLOTE.
(Water-lily.)
O zummer clote! when the brook’s a-glidèn
So slow an’ smooth down his zedgy bed,
Upon thy broad leaves so seäfe a-ridèn
The water’s top wi’ thy yollow head,
By alder’s heads, O,
An’ bulrush beds, O.
Thou then dost float, goolden zummer clote!
