Where the western zun, unclouded,
Up above the grey hill-tops,
Did sheen drough ashes, lofty sh'ouded
On the turf bezide the copse,
In zummer weather,
We together,
Sorrow-slighten, work-vorgetten.
Gambol'd wi' the zun a-zetten.
There, by flow'ry bows o' bramble,
Under hedge, in ash-tree sheaedes,
The dun-heair'd ho'se did slowly ramble
On the grasses' dewy bleaedes,
Zet free o' lwoads,
An' stwony rwoads,
Vorgetvul o' the lashes fretten,
Grazen wi' the zun a-zetten.
There wer rooks a-beaeten by us
Drough the air, in a vlock,
An' there the lively blackbird, nigh us,
On the meaeple bough did rock,
Wi' ringen droat,
Where zunlight smote
The yollow boughs o' zunny hedges
Over western hills' blue edges.
Waters, drough the meaeds a-purlen,
Glissen'd in the evenen's light,
An' smoke, above the town a-curlen,
Melted slowly out o' zight;
An' there, in glooms
Ov unzunn'd rooms,
To zome, wi' idle sorrows fretten,
Zuns did set avore their zetten.
We were out in geaemes and reaeces,
Loud a-laughen, wild in me'th,
Wi' windblown heaeir, an' zunbrown'd feaeces,
Leaepen on the high-sky'd e'th,
Avore the lights
Wer tin'd o' nights,
An' while the gossamer's light netten
Sparkled to the zun a-zetten.