O! MEÄRY, when the zun went down,

Woone night in Spring, wi’ vi'ry rim, fiery

Behind thik nap wi’ woody crown, that hillock

An’ left your smilèn feäce so dim;

Your little sister there, inside,

Wi’ bellows on her little knee,

Did blow the vier, a-glearèn wide fire

Drough window-peänes, that I could zee,— through

As you did stan’ wi’ me, avore

The house, a-peärten,—woone smile mwore.

The chatt‘rèn birds, a-risèn high,

An’ zinkèn low, did swiftly vlee fly

Vrom shrinkèn moss, a-growèn dry,

Upon the leänèn apple tree.

An’ there the dog, a-whippèn wide

His heäiry taïl, an’ comèn near,

Did fondly lay ageän your zide

His coal-black nose an’ russet ear:

To win what I’ d a-won avore,

Vrom your gaÿ feäce, his woone smile mwore.

An’ while your mother bustled sprack, briskly

A-gettèn supper out in hall,

An’ cast her sheäde, a-whiv‘rèn black shadow, quivering

Avore the vier, upon the wall;

Your brother come, wi’ easy peäce,

In drough the slammèn geäte, along through

The path, wi’ healthy-bloomèn feäce,

A-whis'lèn shrill his last new zong; tunefully

An’ when he come avore the door,

He met vrom you his woone smile mwore.

Now you that wer the daughter there,

Be mother on a husband's vloor,

An’ mid ye meet wi’ less o’ ceäre may

Than what your hearty mother bore;

An’ if abroad I have to rue

The bitter tongue, or wrongvul deed,

Mid I come hwome to sheäre wi’ you share

What 's needvul free o’ pinchèn need:

An’ vind that you ha’ still in store,

My evenèn meal, an’ woone smile mwore.