'TWER when the busy birds did vlee, fly

Wi’ sheenèn wings, vrom tree to tree, shining

To build upon the mossy lim’

Their hollow nestes’ rounded rim;

The while the zun, a-zinkèn low,

Did roll along his evenèn bow, arc

I come along where wide-horn'd cows,

'Ithin a nook, a-screen'd by boughs,

Did stan’ an’ flip the white-hoop'd païls

Wi’ heäiry tufts o’ swingèn taïls;

An’ there wer Jenny Coom a-gone

Along the path a vew steps on, few

A-beärèn on her head, upstraïght,

Her païl, wi’ slowly-ridèn waïght,

An’ hoops a-sheenèn, lily-white,

Ageän the evenèn's slantèn light;

An’ zo I took her païl, an’ left

Her neck a-freed vrom all his heft; its weight

An’ she a-lookèn up an’ down,

Wi’ sheäpely head an’ glossy crown,

Then took my zide, an’ kept my peäce pace

A-talkèn on wi’ smilèn feäce,

An’ zettèn things in sich a light,

I'd faïn ha’ heär'd her talk all night;

An’ when I brought her milk avore

The geäte, she took it in to door,

An’ if her païl had but allow'd

Her head to vall, she would ha’ bow'd,

An’ still, as 'twer, I had the zight

Ov her sweet smile droughout the night.