THE snow-white clouds did float on high

In shoals avore the sheenèn sky, shining

An’ runnèn weäves in pon’ did cheäse pond, chase

Each other on the water's feäce,

As hufflèn win’ did blow between gusty

The new-leav'd boughs o’ sheenèn green.

An’ there, the while I walked along

The path, drough leäze, above the drong, through the meadow, lane

A little maïd, wi’ bloomèn feäce,

Went on up hill wi’ nimble peäce, pace

A-leänèn to the right-han’ zide,

To car a basket that did ride, carry

A-hangèn down, wi’ all his heft, weight

Upon her elbow at her left.

An’ yet she hardly seem'd to bruise

The grass-bleädes wi’ her tiny shoes,

That pass'd each other, left an’ right,

In steps a'most too quick vor zight.

But she'd a-left her mother's door

A-bearèn vrom her little store

Her father's welcome bit o’ food,

Where he wer out at work in wood;

An’ she wer bless'd wi’ mwore than zwome—

A father out, an’ mother hwome.

An’ there, a-vell'd 'ithin the copse,

Below the timber's new-leav'd tops,

Wer ashen poles, a-castèn straïght, ash-wood

On primrwose beds, their langthy waïght;

Below the yollow light, a-shed

Drough boughs upon the vi'let's head, through

By climèn ivy, that did reach,

A sheenèn roun’ the dead-leav'd beech. Shining

An’ there her father zot, an’ meäde sat

His hwomely meal bezide a gleäde;

While she, a-croopèn down to ground, stooping

Did pull the flowers, where she vound

The droopèn vi'let out in blooth, bloom

Or yollow primrwose in the lewth, shelter

That she mid car em proudly back, might carry

An’ zet em on her mother's tack; shelf

Vor she wer bless'd wi’ mwore than zwome—

A father out, an’ mother hwome.

A father out, an’ mother hwome,

Be blessèns soon a-lost by zome;

A-lost by me, an’ zoo I praÿ'd so

They mid be speär'd the little maïd.