AT eventide the wind wer loud

By trees an’ tuns above woone's head, chimneys, one's

An’ all the sky wer woone dark cloud,

Vor all it had noo raïn to shed;

An’ as the darkness gather'd thick,

I zot me down below a rick, sat

Where straws upon the win’ did ride

Wi’ giddy flights, along my zide,

Though unmolestèn me a-restèn,

Where I laÿ 'ithin the lew.

My wife's bright vier indoors did cast fire

Its fleäme upon the window peänes

That screen'd her teäble, while the blast

Vled on in music down the leänes; flew

An’ as I zot in vaïceless thought

Ov other zummer-tides, that brought

The sheenèn grass below the lark, shining

Or left their ricks a-wearèn dark,

My childern voun’ me, an’ come roun’ me, found

Where I laÿ 'ithin the lew.

The rick that then did keep me lew sheltered

Would be a-gone another Fall,

An’ I, in zome years, in a vew,

Mid leäve the childern, big or small; might

But He that meäde the wind, an’ meäde

The lewth, an’ zent wi’ het the sheäde, shelter, heat

Can keep my childern, all alwone

Or under me, an’ though vull grown

Or little lispers, wi’ their whispers,

There a-lyèn in the lew.