Here I do rove below the lark.
VIELDS IN THE LIGHT.
Woone's heart mid leäp wi' thoughts o' jaÿ
In comèn manhood light an' gaÿ
When we do teäke the worold on
Vrom our vore-elders dead an' gone;
But days so feäir in hope's bright eyes
Do often come wi' zunless skies:
Woone's fancy can but be out-done,