No, no, good Meäster Collins cried,

Why you've a good wife at your zide;

Zoo do believe the heart is true so

That gi'ed up all bezide vor you, gave

An’ still beheäve as you begun

To seek the love that you've a-won

When woonce in dewy June, once

In hours o’ hope soft eyes did flash,

Each bright below his sheädy lash,

A-glisnèn to the moon.

Think how her girlhood met noo ceäre

To peäle the bloom her feäce did weär,

An’ how her glossy temple prest

Her pillow down, in still-feäced rest,

While sheädes o’ window bars did vall shadows

In moonlight on the gloomy wall,

In cool-aïr'd nights o’ June;

The while her lids, wi’ bendèn streäks

O’ lashes, met above her cheäks,

A-bloomèn to the moon.

Think how she left her childhood's pleäce,

An’ only sister's long-known feäce,

An’ brother's jokes so much a-miss'd,

An’ mother's cheäk, the last a-kiss'd;

An’ how she lighted down avore

Her new abode, a husband's door,

Your weddèn night in June;

Wi’ heart that beät wi’ hope an’ fear,

While on each eye-lash hung a tear,

A-glisnèn to the moon.

Think how her father zot all dum’, sat

A-thinkèn on her, back at hwome,

The while grey axan gather'd thick, ashes

On dyèn embers, on the brick;

An’ how her mother look'd abrode, out

Drough window, down the moon-bright road, through

Thik cloudless night o’ June, that

Wi’ tears upon her lashes big

As raïn-drops on a slender twig,

A-glisnèn to the moon.

Zoo don't zit thoughtless at your cup so

An’ keep your wife a-wäitèn up,

The while the clock's a-tickèn slow

The chilly hours o’ vrost an’ snow,

Until the zinkèn candle's light

Is out avore her drowsy sight,

A-dimm'd wi’ grief too soon;

A-leävèn there alwone to murn mourn

The feädèn cheäk that woonce did burn, fading, once

A-bloomèn to the moon.