Now the sheädes o’ the elems do stratch mwore an’ mwore,
Vrom the low-zinkèn zun in the west o’ the sky;
An’ the maïdens do stand out in clusters avore
The doors, vor to chatty an’ zee vo’k goo by.
An’ their cwombs be a-zet in their bunches o’ heäir,
An’ their currels do hang roun’ their necks lily-white,
An’ their cheäks they be rwosy, their shoulders be beäre,
Their looks they be merry, their limbs they be light.
An’ the times have a-been–but they cant be noo mwore–
When I had my jaÿ under evenèn’s dim sky,
When my Fanny did stan’ out wi’ others avore
Her door, vor to chatty an’ zee vo’k goo by.
An’ up there, in the green, is her own honey-zuck,
That her brother traïn’d up roun’ her window; an’ there
Is the rwose an’ the jessamy, where she did pluck
A flow’r vor her bosom or bud vor her heäir.
An’ zoo smile, happy maïdens! vor every feäce,
As the zummers do come, an’ the years do roll by,
Will soon sadden, or goo vur away vrom the pleäce,
Or else, lik’ my Fanny, will wither an’ die.
But when you be a-lost vrom the parish, zome mwore
Will come on in your pleäzen to bloom an’ to die;
An’ the zummer will always have maïdens avore
Their doors, vor to chatty an’ zee vo’k goo by.
Vor daughters ha’ mornèn when mothers ha’ night,
An’ there’s beauty alive when the feäirest is dead;
As when woone sparklèn weäve do zink down vrom the light,
Another do come up an’ catch it instead.
Zoo smile on, happy maïdens! but I shall noo mwore
Zee the maïd I do miss under evenèn’s dim sky;
An’ my heart is a-touch’d to zee you out avore
The doors, vor to chatty an’ zee vo’k goo by.
—————
The End
And that’s the End of the Poem
© Poetry Monster, 2021.
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