An' water, under bowèn zedge,
A-springèn vrom the river's edge,
Do ripple, as the win' do blow,
An' sparkle, as the sky do glow;
An' grey-leav'd withy-boughs do cool,
Wi' darksome sheädes, the clear-feäced pool,
My chimny smoke, 'ithin the lew
O' trees is there arisèn blue;
Avore the night do dim our zight,
Or candle-light, a-sheenèn bright,