There yonder poplar trees do play
Soft music, as their heads do swaỹ,
While wind, a-rustlèn soft or loud,
Do stream ageän their lofty sh'oud;
An' seem to heal the ranklèn zore
My mind do meet wi' out o' door,
When I've a-bore, in downcast mood,
Zome evil where I look'd vor good.
O' they two poplars that do rise
So high avore our naïghbours' eyes,
A-zet by gramfer, hand by hand,
Wi' grammer, in their bit o' land;
The woone upon the western zide
Wer his, an' woone wer grammer's pride,
An' since they died, we all do teäke
Mwore ceäre o'm vor the wold vo'k's seäke.
An' there, wi' stems a-growèn tall
Avore the houses mossy wall,
The while the moon ha' slowly past
The leafy window, they've a-cast
Their sheädes 'ithin the window peäne;
While childern have a-grown to men,
An' then ageän ha' left their beds,
To bear their childern's heavy heads.
THE LINDEN ON THE LAWN.
No! Jenny, there's noo pleäce to charm
My mind lik' yours at Woakland farm,
A-peärted vrom the busy town,
By longsome miles ov aïry down,
Where woonce the meshy wall did gird
Your flow'ry geärden, an' the bird
Did zing in zummer wind that stirr'd
The spreädèn linden on the lawn.
An' now ov all the trees wi' sheädes
A-wheelèn round in Blackmwore gleädes,
There's noo tall poplar by the brook,
Nor elem that do rock the rook,
Nor ash upon the shelvèn ledge,
Nor low-bough'd woak bezide the hedge,
Nor withy up above the zedge,
So dear's thik linden on the lawn.
Vor there, o' zummer nights, below
The wall, we zot when aïr did blow,
An' sheäke the dewy rwose a-tied
Up roun' the window's stwonèn zide;
An' while the carter rod' along
A-zingèn, down the dusky drong,
There you did zing a sweeter zong
Below the linden on the lawn.
An' while your warbled ditty wound
Drough playsome flights o' mellow sound,
The nightèngeäle's sh'ill zong, that broke
The stillness ov the dewy woak,
Rung clear along the grove, an' smote
To sudden stillness ev'ry droat;
As we did zit, an' hear it float
Below the linden on the lawn.
Where dusky light did softly vall
'Ithin the stwonèn-window'd hall,
Avore your father's blinken eyes,
His evenèn whiff o' smoke did rise,
An' vrom the bedroom window's height
Your little John, a-cloth'd in white,
An' gwaïn to bed, did cry "good night"
Towards the linden on the lawn.
But now, as Dobbin, wi' a nod
Vor ev'ry heavy step he trod,
Did bring me on, to-night, avore
The geäbled house's pworchèd door,
Noo laughèn child a-cloth'd in white,
Look'd drough the stwonèn window's light,
An' noo vaïce zung, in dusky night,
Below the linden on the lawn.
An' zoo, if you should ever vind,
My kindness seem to grow less kind,
An' if upon my clouded feäce
My smile should yield a frown its pleäce,
Then, Jenny, only laugh an' call
My mind 'ithin the geärden wall,
Where we did play at even-fall,
Below the linden on the lawn.
OUR ABODE IN ARBY WOOD.
Though ice do hang upon the willows Out bezide the vrozen brook, An' storms do roar above our pillows, Drough the night, 'ithin our nook; Our evenèn he'th's a-glowèn warm, Drough wringen vrost, an' roarèn storm. Though winds mid meäke the wold beams sheäke, In our abode in Arby Wood.
An' there, though we mid hear the timber
Creake avore the windy raïn;
An' climèn ivy quiver, limber,
Up ageän the window peäne;
Our merry vaïces then do sound,
In rollèn glee, or dree-vaïce round;
Though wind mid roar, 'ithout the door,
Ov our abode in Arby Wood.
'Tis zome vo'ks jaÿ to teäke the road, An' goo abro'd, a-wand'rèn wide,
Vrom shere to shere, vrom pleäce to pleäce,
The swiftest peäce that vo'k can ride.
But I've a jaÿ 'ithin the door,
Wi' friends avore the vier-zide.
An' zoo, when winter skies do lour,
An' when the Stour's a-rollèn wide,
Drough bridge-voot rails, a-païnted white,
To be at night, the trav'llers guide,
Gi'e me a pleäce that's warm an' dry,
A-zitten nigh my vier-zide.
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