The stream-be-wander'd dell did spread
Vrom height to woody height,
An' meaeds did lie, a grassy bed,
Vor elem-sheaeden light.
The milkmaid by her white-horn'd cow,
Wi' pail so white as snow,
Did zing below the elem bough
A-swayen to an' fro.
An' there the evenen's low-shot light
Did smite the high tree-tops,
An' rabbits vrom the grass, in fright,
Did leaep 'ithin the copse.
An' there the shepherd wi' his crook.
An' dog bezide his knee,
Went whisslen by, in air that shook
The ivy on the tree.
An' on the hill, ahead, wer bars
A-showen dark on high,
Avore, as eet, the evenen stars
Did twinkle in the sky,
An' then the last sweet evenen-tide
That my long sheaede vell there,
I went down Brindon's thymy zide,
To my last sleep at Ware.