AT Easter, though the wind wer high,

We vound we had a zunny sky,

An’ zoo wold Dobbin had to trudge so old

His dousty road by knap an’ brudge, dusty, hillock

An’ jog, wi’ hangèn vetterlocks fetlocks

A-sheäkèn roun’ his heavy hocks,

An’ us, a lwoad not much too small,

A-ridèn out to Brookwell Hall;

An’ there in doust vrom Dobbin's heels, dust

An’ green light-waggon's vower wheels, four

Our merry laughs did loudly sound,

In rollèn winds athirt the ground; across

While sheenèn-ribbons’ color'd streäks

Did flutter roun’ the maïdens’ cheäks,

As they did zit, wi’ smilèn lips,

A-reachèn out their vinger-tips

Toward zome teäkèn pleäce or zight

That they did shew us, left or right;

An’ woonce, when Jimmy tried to pleäce once

A kiss on cousin Polly's feäce,

She push'd his hat, wi’ wicked leers,

Right off above his two red ears,

An’ there he roll'd along the groun’ it

Wi’ spreadèn brim an’ rounded crown,

An’ vound, at last, a cowpon's brim, cowpond's

An’ launch'd hizzelf, to teäke a zwim; itself

An’ there, as Jim did run to catch

His neäked noddle's bit o’ thatch,

To zee his straïnèns an’ his strides,

We laugh'd enough to split our zides.

At Harwood Farm we pass'd the land

That father's father had in hand,

An’ there, in oben light did spread,

The very groun's his cows did tread, fields

An’ there above the stwonèn tun stone chimney

Avore the dazzlèn mornèn zun,

Wer still the rollèn smoke, the breath

A-breath'd vrom his wold house's he'th; old, hearth

An’ there did lie below the door,

The drashol’ that his vootsteps wore; threshold

But there his meäte an’ he bwoth died,

Wi’ hand in hand, an’ zide by zide;

Between the seäme two peals a-rung,

Two Zundays, though they wer but young,

An’ laid in sleep, their worksome hands,

At rest vrom tweil wi’ house or lands.