Above our road, a-beamèn red;

The grass in zwath wer in the meäds,

The water gleam'd among the reeds

In aïr a-steälèn roun' the hall,

Where ivy clung upon the wall.

Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu!

The wall is wold, my grief is new.

An' there you walk'd wi' blushèn pride,

Where softly-wheelèn streams did glide,

Drough sheädes o' poplars at my zide,