As I come by, zome years agoo,

A-burnt below a sky o’ blue,

‘Ithin the pillar'd geäte there zung

A vaïce a-soundèn sweet an’ young,

That meäde me veel awhile to zwim

In weäves o’ jaÿ to hear its hymn; joy

Vor all the zinger, angel-bright,

Wer then a-hidden vrom my zight,

An’ I wer then too low

To seek a meäte to match my steäte

‘Ithin the lofty-pillar'd geäte,

Wi’ stwonèn balls upon the walls:

Oh, no! my heart, no, no.

Another time as I come by

The house, below a dark-blue sky,

The pillar'd geäte wer oben wide,

An’ who should be a-show'd inside,

But she, the comely maïd whose hymn

Woonce meäde my giddy braïn to zwim, once

A-zittèn in the sheäde to zew,

A-clad in robes as white as snow.

What then? could I so low

Look out a meäte ov higher steäte

So gaÿ ‘ithin a pillar'd geäte,

Wi’ high walls round the smooth-mow'd ground?

Oh, no! my heart, no, no.

Long years stole by, a-glidèn slow,

Wi’ winter cwold an’ zummer glow,

An’ she wer then a widow, clad

In grey; but comely, though so sad;

Her husband, heartless to his bride,

Spent all her store an’ wealth, an’ died;

Though she noo mwore could now rejaïce,

Yet sweet did sound her zongless vaïce.

But had she, in her woe,

The higher steäte she had o’ leäte

‘Ithin the lofty pillar'd geäte,

Wi’ stwonèn balls upon the walls?

Oh, no! my heart, no, no.

But while she vell, my Meäker's greäce

Led me to teäke a higher pleäce,

An’ lighten'd up my mind wi’ lore,

An’ bless'd me wi’ a worldly store;

But still noo winsome feäce or vaïce,

Had ever been my wedded chaïce;

An’ then I thought, why do I mwope

Alwone without a jaÿ or hope? joy

Would she still think me low?

Or scorn a meäte, in my feäir steäte,

In here ‘ithin a pillar'd geäte,

A happy pleäce wi’ her kind feäce?

Oh, no! my hope, no, no.