As I come by, zome years agoo,
A-burnt below a sky o' blue,
'Ithin the pillar'd geaete there zung
A vaice a-sounden sweet an' young,
That meaede me veel awhile to zwim
In weaeves o' jay to hear its hymn;
Vor all the zinger, angel-bright,
Wer then a-hidden vrom my zight,
An' I wer then too low
To seek a meaete to match my steaete
'Ithin the lofty-pillar'd geaete,
Wi' stwonen balls upon the walls:
Oh, no! my heart, no, no.
Another time as I come by
The house, below a dark-blue sky,
The pillar'd geaete wer oben wide,
An' who should be a-show'd inside,
But she, the comely maid whose hymn
Woonce meaede my giddy brain to zwim,
A-zitten in the sheaede to zew,
A-clad in robes as white as snow.
What then? could I so low
Look out a meaete ov higher steaete
So gay 'ithin a pillar'd geaete,
Wi' high walls round the smooth-mow'd ground?
Oh, no! my heart, no, no.
Long years stole by, a-gliden slow,
Wi' winter cwold an' zummer glow,
An' she wer then a widow, clad
In grey; but comely, though so sad;
Her husband, heartless to his bride,
Spent all her store an' wealth, an' died,
Though she noo mwore could now rejaice,
Yet sweet did sound her zongless vaice.
But had she, in her woe,
The higher steaete she had o' leaete
'Ithin the lofty pillar'd geaete,
Wi' stwonen balls upon the walls?
Oh, no! my heart, no, no.
But while she vell, my Meaeker's greaece
Led me to teaeke a higher pleaece,
An' lighten'd up my mind wi' lore,
An' bless'd me wi' a worldly store;
But still noo winsome feaece or vaice,
Had ever been my wedded chaice;
An' then I thought, why do I mwope
Alwone without a jay or hope?
Would she still think me low?
Or scorn a meaete, in my feaeir steaete,
In here 'ithin a pillar'd geaete,
A happy pleaece wi' her kind feaece?
Oh, no! my hope, no, no.
I don't stand out 'tis only feaete
Do gi'e to each his wedded meaete;
But eet there's woone above the rest,
That every soul can like the best.
An' my wold love's a-kindled new,
An' my wold dream's a-come out true;
But while I had noo soul to sheaere
My good an' ill, an' jaey an ceaere,
Should I have bliss below,
In gleaemen pleaete an' lofty steaete
'Ithin the lofty pillar'd geaete,
Wi' feaeirest flow'rs, an' ponds an' tow'rs?
Oh, no! my heart, no, no.