Above the leafless hazzle-wride
The wind-drove rain did quickly vall,
An' on the meaeple's ribby zide
Did hang the rain-drops quiv'ren ball;
Out where the brook o' foamy yollow
Roll'd along the meaed's deep hollow,
An' noo birds wer out to beaet,
Wi' flappen wings, the vleen wet
O' zunless clouds on flow'rless ground.
How time do bring the seasons round!
The moss, a-beaet vrom trees, did lie
Upon the ground in ashen droves,
An' western wind did huffle high,
Above the sheds' quick-drippen oves.
An' where the ruslen straw did sound
So dry, a-shelter'd in the lew,
I staied alwone, an' weather-bound,
An' thought on times, long years agoo,
Wi' water-floods on flow'rless ground.
How time do bring the seasons round!
We then, in childhood play, did seem
In work o' men to teaeke a peaert,
A-dreven on our wild bwoy team,
Or lwoaden o' the tiny cart.
Or, on our little refters, spread
The zedgen ruf above our head,
But coulden tell, as now we can,
Where each would goo to tweil a man.
O jays a-lost, an' jays a-vound,
How Providence do bring things round!
Where woonce along the sky o' blue
The zun went roun' his longsome bow,
An' brighten'd, to my soul, the view
About our little farm below.
There I did play the merry geaeme,
Wi' childern ev'ry holitide,
But coulden tell the vaice or neaeme
That time would vind to be my bride.
O hwome a-left, O wife a-vound,
How Providence do bring things round!
An' when I took my manhood's pleaece,
A husband to a wife's true vow,
I never thought by neaeme or feaece
O' childern that be round me now.
An' now they all do grow vrom small,
Drough life's feaeir sheaepes to big an' tall,
I still be blind to God's good plan,
To pleaece em out as wife, or man.
O thread o' love by God unwound,
How He in time do bring things round;