IN brown-leav'd Fall the wheat a-left

'Ithin its darksome bed,

Where all the creakèn roller's heft weight

Seal'd down its lowly head,

Sprung sheäkèn drough the crumblèn mwold, through, earth

Green-yollow, vrom below,

An’ bent its bleädes, a-glitt'rèn cwold,

At last in winter snow.

Zoo luck betide so

The upland zide,

Where wheat do wride, spread

In corn-vields wide,

By crowns o’ Do'set Downs, O.

An’ while the screamèn bird-bwoy shook

Wi’ little zun-burnt hand,

His clacker at the bright-wing'd rook,

About the zeeded land;

His meäster there did come an’ stop

His bridle-champèn meäre, horse

Wi’ thankvul heart, to zee his crop

A-comèn up so feäir.

As there awhile

By geäte or stile,

He gi'ed the chile gave

A cheerèn smile,

By crowns o’ Do'set Downs, O.

At last, wi’ eärs o’ darksome red,

The yollow stalks did ply,

A-swaÿèn slow, so heavy 's lead,

In aïr a-blowèn by;

An’ then the busy reapers laid

In row their russlèn grips, handfuls of sheaves

An’ sheäves, a-leänèn head by head,

Did meäke the stitches tips. shocks (or stooks)

Zoo food's a-vound, so

A-comèn round,

Vrom zeed in ground,

To sheaves a-bound,

By crowns o’ Do'set Downs, O.

An’ now the wheat, in lofty lwoads,

Above the meäres’ broad backs, horses’

Do ride along the cracklèn rwoads,

Or dousty waggon-tracks. dusty

An’ there, mid every busy pick, may, pitchfork

Ha’ work enough to do;

An’ where, avore, we built woone rick, one

Mid theäse year gi'e us two; this, give

Wi’ God our friend,

An’ wealth to spend,

Vor zome good end,

That times mid mend,

In towns, an’ Do'set Downs, O.

Zoo let the merry thatcher veel so

Fine weather on his brow,

As he, in happy work, do kneel

Up roun’ the new-built mow, stack

That now do zwell in sich a size,

An’ rise to sich a height,

That, oh! the miller's wistful eyes

Do sparkle at the zight.

An’ long mid stand,

A happy band,

To till the land,

Wi’ head an’ hand,

By crowns o’ Do'set Downs, O.