Free o' the strong limb'd team,
Still wer the shop that the smith meäde ring,
Dark where the sparks did spring;
Low shot the zun's last beams.
Lim'-weary souls "Good dreams."
Where I vrom dark bank-sheädes
Turn'd up the west hill road,
Where all the green grass bleädes
Under the zunlight glow'd.
Startled I met, as the zunbeams play'd