Now day by day, at lofty height,
O zummer noons, the burnen zun
'Ve a-show'd avore our eastward zight,
The sky-blue zide ov Hameldon,
An' shone ageaen, on new-mow'd ground,
Wi' hay a-piled up grey in pook,
An' down on leaezes, bennet-brown'd,
An' wheat a-vell avore the hook;
Till, under elems tall,
The leaves do lie on leaenen lands,
In leaeter light o' Fall.
An' last year, we did zee the red
O' dawn vrom Ash-knap's thatchen oves,
An' walk on crumpled leaves a-laid
In grassy rook-trees' timber'd groves,
Now, here, the cooler days do shrink
To vewer hours o' zunny sky,
While zedge, a-weaeven by the brink
O' shallow brooks, do slowly die.
An' on the timber tall,
The boughs, half beaere, do bend above
The bulgen banks in Fall.
There, we'd a spring o' water near,
Here, water's deep in wink-drain'd wells,
The church 'tis true, is nigh out here,
Too nigh wi' vive loud-boomen bells.
There, naighbours wer vull wide a-spread,
But vo'k be here too clwose a-stow'd.
Vor childern now do stun woone's head,
Wi' naisy play bezide the road,
Where big so well as small,
The little lad, an' lump'ren lout,
Do leaep an' laugh theaese Fall.