The new-leav'd boughs o' sheenèn green.
An' there, the while I walked along
The path, drough leäze, above the drong,
A little maïd, wi' bloomèn feäce,
Went on up hill wi' nimble peäce,
A-leänèn to the right-han' zide,
To car a basket that did ride,
A-hangèn down, wi' all his heft,
Upon her elbow at her left.
An' yet she hardly seem'd to bruise