William Barnes
When evenen is a-drawen in,
I’ll steal vrom others’ naisy din;
An’ where the whirlen brook do roll
Below the walnut-tree, I’ll stroll
An’ think o’ thee wi’ all my soul,
Dear Jenny; while the sound o’ bells
Do vlee along wi’ mwoansome zwells,
 Sweet music in the wind!
 
I’ll think how in the rushy leaeze
O’ zunny evenens jis’ lik’ theaese,
In happy times I us’d to zee
Thy comely sheaepe about the tree,
Wi’ pail a-held avore thy knee;
An’ lissen’d to thy merry zong
That at a distance come along,
 Sweet music in the wind!
 
An’ when wi’ me you walk’d about
O’ Zundays, after church wer out.
Wi’ hangen eaerm an’ modest look;
Or zitten in some woody nook
We lissen’d to the leaves that shook
Upon the poplars straight an’ tall,
Or rottle o’ the watervall,
 Sweet music in the wind!
 
An’ when the playvul air do vlee,
O’ moonlight nights, vrom tree to tree,
Or whirl upon the sheaeken grass,
Or rottle at my window glass:
Do seem,—as I do hear it pass,—
As if thy vaice did come to tell
Me where thy happy soul do dwell,
 Sweet music in the wind!
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