ABOVE the leafless hazzle-wride hazel-clump

The wind-drove raïn did quickly vall,

An’ on the meäple's ribby zide

Did hang the raïn-drop's quiv'rèn ball;

Out where the brook o’ foamy yollow

Roll'd along the meäd's deep hollow,

An’ noo birds wer out to beät,

Wi’ flappèn wings, the vleèn wet flying

O’ zunless clouds on flow'rless ground.

How time do bring the seasons round!

The moss, a-beät vrom trees, did lie

Upon the ground in ashen droves, ash-wood

An’ western wind did huffle high, blow in gusts

Above the sheds’ quick-drippèn oves. eaves

An’ where the ruslèn straw did sound

So dry, a-shelter'd in the lew, shelter

I staïed alwone, an’ weather-bound,

An’ thought on times, long years agoo,

Wi’ water-floods on flow'rless ground.

How time do bring the seasons round!

We then, in childhood plaÿ, did seem

In work o’ men to teäke a peärt,

A-drevèn on our wild bwoy team, driving

Or lwoadèn o’ the tiny cart.

Or, on our little refters, spread

The zedgen ruf above our head, roof of sedges

But coulden tell, as now we can,

Where each would goo to tweil a man. toil

O jaÿs a-lost, an’ jaÿs a-vound, joys

How Providence do bring things round!

Where woonce along the sky o’ blue once

The zun went roun’ his longsome bow, arc

An’ brighten'd, to my soul, the view

About our little farm below,

There I did plaÿ the merry geäme,

Wi’ childern ev'ry holitide,

But coulden tell the vaïce or neäme

That time would vind to be my bride.

O hwome a-left, O wife a-vound,

How Providence do bring things round!

An’ when I took my manhood's pleäce,

A husband to a wife's true vow,

I never thought by neäme or feäce

O’ childern that be round me now.

An’ now they all do grow vrom small,

Drough life's feäir sheäpes to big an’ tall, through

I still be blind to God's good plan,

To pleäce em out as wife, or man.

O thread o’ love by God unwound,

How He in time do bring things round!