They come to bid us there "Good night,"
Vrom hall, a-hung wi' holm, that rung
Wi' many a tongue o' wold an' young.
There in the narrow leäne an' drong
Hallow'd by times o' gwaïn along,
The lofty ashes' leafless sh'ouds
Rose dark avore the clear-edged clouds,
The while the moon, at girtest height,
Bespread the pooly brook wi' light,
An' as our child, in loose-limb'd rest,