Between my withy-sheäded shores.
The broken stream did idly try
To show her sheäpe a-ridèn by,
The rushes brown-bloom'd stems did ply,
As if they bow'd to her by will.
The rings o' water, wi' a sock,
Did break upon the mossy rock,
An' gi'e my beätèn heart a shock,
Above my float's up-leapèn quill.
Then, lik' a cloud below the skies,