Bezide the hill's besheäded head:
An' black-wing'd rooks do glitter bright
Above my head, in peäler light;
Then though the birds do still the glee
That sounded in the zummer tree,
My heart is light the winter drough,
In me'th at night, wi'—I know who.
JESSIE LEE.
Above the timber's bendèn sh'ouds,