Do sparkle drough the window.
When crumpled leaves o' Fall do bound
Avore the wind, along the ground,
An' wither'd bennet-stems do stand
A-quiv'rèn on the chilly land;
The while the zun, wi' zettèn rim,
Do leäve the workman's pathway dim;
An' sweet-breath'd childern's hangèn heads
Be laid wi' kisses, on their beds;
Then I do seek my woodland nest,