'Twer at night, an' a keen win' did blow
Vrom the east under peaele-twinklen stars,
All a-zweepen along the white snow;
On the groun', on the trees, on the bars,
Vrom the hedge where the win' russled drough,
There a light-russlen snow-doust did vall;
An' noo pleaece wer a-vound that wer lew,
But the shed, or the ivy-hung wall.
Then I knock'd at the wold passage door
Wi' the win'-driven snow on my locks;
Till, a-comen along the cwold vloor,
There my Jenny soon answer'd my knocks.
Then the wind, by the door a-swung wide,
Flung some snow in her clear-bloomen feaece,
An' she blink'd wi' her head all a-zide,
An' a-chucklen, went back to her pleaece.
An' in there, as we zot roun' the brands,
Though the talkers wer mainly the men,
Bloomen Jeaene, wi' her work in her hands,
Did put in a good word now an' then.
An' when I took my leave, though so bleaek
Wer the weather, she went to the door,
Wi' a smile, an' a blush on the cheaek
That the snow had a-smitten avore.