On drough my happy hour below.
An' tho' the darkness then did hide
The dewy rwose's blushèn bloom,
He still did cast sweet aïr inside
To Jeäne, a-chattèn in the room;
An' though the gloom did hide her feäce,
Her words did bind me to the pleäce.
An' there, while she, wi' runnèn tongue,
Did talk unzeen 'ithin the hall,
I thought her like the rwose that flung