An' nwone but thou o' mine, Jeäne;
An' now my heart, that heav'd wi' pride
Back then to have thee at my zide,
Do love thee mwore as years do slide,
An' leäve them times behine, Jeäne.
THE DREE WOAKS.
By the brow o' thik hangèn I spent all my youth,
In the house that did peep out between
The dree woaks, that in winter avworded their lewth,