Ha' seem'd a-took avore their time—
The young that died in beauty.
But when woone's lim's ha' lost their strangth
A-tweilèn drough a lifetime's langth,
An' over cheäks a-growèn wold
The slowly-weästen years ha' rolled,
The deep'nèn wrinkle's hollow vwold;
When life is ripe, then death do call
Vor less ov thought, than when do vall
On young vo'ks in their beauty.