No! Jenny, there's noo pleaece to charm
My mind lik' yours at Woakland farm,
A-peaerted vrom the busy town,
By longsome miles ov airy down,
Where woonce the meshy wall did gird
Your flow'ry geaerden, an' the bird
Did zing in zummer wind that stirr'd
The spreaeden linden on the lawn.
An' now ov all the trees wi' sheaedes
A-wheelen round in Blackmwore gleaedes,
There's noo tall poplar by the brook,
Nor elem that do rock the rook,
Nor ash upon the shelven ledge,
Nor low-bough'd woak bezide the hedge,
Nor withy up above the zedge,
So dear's thik linden on the lawn.
Vor there, o' zummer nights, below
The wall, we zot when air did blow,
An' sheaeke the dewy rwose a-tied
Up roun' the window's stwonen zide.
An' while the carter rod' along
A-zingen, down the dusky drong,
There you did zing a sweeter zong
Below the linden on the lawn.
An' while your warbled ditty wound
Drough playsome flights o' mellow sound,
The nightengeaele's sh'ill zong, that broke
The stillness ov the dewy woak,
Rung clear along the grove, an' smote
To sudden stillness ev'ry droat;
As we did zit, an' hear it float
Below the linden on the lawn.
Where dusky light did softly vall
'Ithin the stwonen-window'd hall,
Avore your father's blinken eyes,
His evenen whiff o' smoke did rise,
An' vrom the bedroom window's height
Your little John, a-cloth'd in white,
An' gwain to bed, did cry "good night"
Towards the linden on the lawn.
But now, as Dobbin, wi' a nod
Vor ev'ry heavy step he trod,
Did bring me on, to-night, avore
The geaebled house's pworched door,
Noo laughen child a-cloth'd in white,
Look'd drough the stwonen window's light,
An' noo vaice zung, in dusky night,
Below the linden on the lawn.
An' zoo, if you should ever vind
My kindness seem to grow less kind,
An' if upon my clouded feaece
My smile should yield a frown its pleaece,
Then, Jenny, only laugh an' call
My mind 'ithin the geaerden wall,
Where we did play at even-fall,
Below the linden on the lawn.