THE sky wer clear, the zunsheen glow'd sunshine

On droopèn flowers drough the day, through

As I did beät the dousty road dusty

Vrom hinder hills, a-feädèn gray;

Drough hollows up the hills,

Vrom knaps along by mills, hillocks

Vrom mills by churches tow'rs, wi’ bells

That twold the hours to woody dells.

An’ when the windèn road do guide

The thirsty vootman where mid flow may

The water vrom a rock bezide

His vootsteps, in a sheenèn bow; shining

The hand a-hollow'd up

Do beät a goolden cup,

To catch an’ drink it, bright an’ cool,

A-vallèn light 'ithin the pool. falling

Zoo when, at last, I hung my head so

Wi’ thirsty lips a-burnèn dry,

I come bezide a river-bed

Where water flow'd so blue's the sky;

An’ there I meäde me up

O’ coltsvoot leaf a cup,

Where water vrom his lip o’ gray,

Wer sweet to sip thik burnèn day. that

But when our work is right, a jaÿ

Do come to bless us in its traïn,

An’ hardships ha’ zome good to paÿ

The thoughtvul soul vor all their païn:

The het do sweetèn sheäde, heat

An’ weary lim's ha’ meäde

A bed o’ slumber, still an’ sound,

By woody hill or grassy mound.

An’ while I zot in sweet delaÿ sat

Below an elem on a hill,

Where boughs a-halfwaÿ up did swaÿ

In sheädes o’ lim's above em still, shadows

An’ blue sky show'd between

The flutt'rèn leäves o’ green;

I woulden gi'e that gloom an’ sheäde give

Vor any room that weälth ha’ meäde.

But oh! that vo'k that have the roads folk

Where weary-vooted souls do pass,

Would leäve bezide the stwone vor lwoads,

A little strip vor zummer grass;

That when the stwones do bruise

An’ burn an’ gall our tooes, toes

We then mid cool our veet on beds may

O’ wild-thyme sweet, or deäisy-heads.