THE zilver-weed upon the green,

Out where my sons an’ daughters plaÿ'd,

Had never time to bloom between

The litty steps o’ bwoy an’ maïd. light

But rwose-trees down along the wall,

That then wer all the maïdens’ ceäre,

An’ all a-trimm'd an’ traïn'd, did bear

Their bloomèn buds vrom Spring to Fall.

But now the zilver leaves do show

To zummer day their goolden crown,

Wi’ noo swift shoe-zoles’ litty blow,

In merry plaÿ to beät em down.

An’ where vor years zome busy hand

Did traïn the rwoses wide an’ high;

Now woone by woone the trees do die, one by one

An’ vew of all the row do stand.