An' in the light the gleäzier's glass,
As he did pass, wer dazzlèn bright,
Or woone went by wï' down-cast head,
A wrapp'd in blackness vor the dead.
An' then the bank, wi' risèn back,
That's now a-most a-troddèn down,
Bore thorns wi' rind o' sheeny black,
An' meäple stems o' ribby brown;
An' in the lewth o' theäse tree heads,
Wer primrwose beds a-sprung in blooth,