A-drifted off, wi' less'nèn size,
An' lost, she floated vrom my eyes,
Where down below the stream did wind;
An' left the quiet weäves woonce mwore
To zink to rest, a sky-blue'd vloor,
Wi' all so still's the clote they bore,
Aye, all but my own ruffled mind.
[page 307]