In zummer, leaete at evenen tide,
I zot to spend a moonless hour
'Ithin the window, wi' the zide
A-bound wi' rwoses out in flow'r,
Bezide the bow'r, vorsook o' birds,
An' listen'd to my true-love's words.
A-risen to her comely height,
She push'd the swingen ceaesement round;
And I could hear, beyond my zight,
The win'-blow'd beech-tree softly sound,
On higher ground, a-swayen slow,
On drough my happy hour below.
An' tho' the darkness then did hide
The dewy rwose's blushen bloom,
He still did cast sweet air inside
To Jeaene, a-chatten in the room;
An' though the gloom did hide her feaece,
Her words did bind me to the pleaece.
An' there, while she, wi' runnen tongue,
Did talk unzeen 'ithin the hall,
I thought her like the rwose that flung
His sweetness vrom his darken'd ball,
'Ithout the wall, an' sweet's the zight
Ov her bright feaece by mornen light.