To zee the childern in their beds;
An' vound woone little head awry,
Wi' woone a-turn'd toward the sky;
An' wrung her hands ageän her breast,
A-smilèn at their happy rest.
ZUN-ZET.
Where the western zun, unclouded,
Up above the grey hill-tops,
Did sheen drough ashes, lofty sh'ouded