THE beäten path where vo'k do meet folk

A-comèn on vrom vur an’ near; far

How many errands had the veet

That wore en out along so clear! it

Where eegrass bleädes be green in meäd, grass regrown after mowing

Where bennets up the leäze be brown, grass-stalks, meadow

An’ where the timber bridge do leäd

Athirt the cloty brook to town, across, yellow water-lilied

Along the path by mile an’ mile,

Athirt the vield, an’ brook, an’ stile,

There runnèn childern's hearty laugh

Do come an’ vlee along—win’ swift: fly

The wold man's glossy-knobbèd staff old

Do help his veet so hard to lift;

The maïd do bear her basket by,

A-hangèn at her breäthèn zide;

An’ ceäreless young men, straïght an’ spry,

Do whissle hwome at eventide,

Along the path, a-reachèn by

Below tall trees an’ oben sky.

There woone do goo to jaÿ a-head; one, joy

Another's jaÿ's behind his back.

There woone his vu'st long mile do tread, first

An’ woone the last ov all his track.

An’ woone mid end a hopevul road, may

Wi’ hopeless grief a-teäkèn on,

As he that leätely vrom abroad

Come hwome to seek his love a-gone,

Noo mwore to tread, wi’ comely eäse,

The beäten path athirt the leäze. across the meadow

In tweilsome hardships, year by year, toilsome

He drough the worold wander'd wide, through

Still bent, in mind, both vur an near far

To come an’ meäke his love his bride.

An’ passèn here drough evenèn dew

He heästen'd, happy, to her door,

But vound the wold vo'k only two, old folk

Wi’ noo mwore vootsteps on the vloor,

To walk ageän below the skies,

Where beäten paths do vall an’ rise;

Vor she wer gone vrom e'thly eyes earthly

To be a-kept in darksome sleep,

Until the good ageän do rise

A jaÿ to souls they left to weep. joy

The rwose wer doust that bound her brow; dust

The moth did eat her Zunday ceäpe;

Her frock wer out o’ fashion now;

Her shoes wer dried up out o’ sheäpe—

The shoes that woonce did glitter black once

Along the leäzes beäten track.