William Barnes
In happy times a while agoo,
     My lively hope, that’s now a-gone
Did stir my heart the whole year drough,
     But mwost when green-bough’d spring come on;
When I did rove, wi’ litty veet,
Drough deaeisy-beds so white’s a sheet,
But still avore I us’d to meet
     The blushen cheaeks that bloom’d vor me!
 
An’ afterward, in lightsome youth,
     When zummer wer a-comen on,
An’ all the trees wer white wi’ blooth,
An’ dippen zwallows skimm’d the pon’;
Sweet hope did vill my heart wi’ jay,
An’ tell me, though thik spring wer gay,
There still would come a brighter May,
     Wi’ blushen cheaeks to bloom vor me!
 
An’ when, at last, the time come roun’,
     An’ brought a lofty zun to sheen
Upon my smilen Fanny, down
     Drough n[=e]sh young leaves o’ yollow green;
How charmen wer the het that glow’d,
How charmen wer the sheaede a-drow’d,
How charmen wer the win’ that blow’d
     Upon her cheaeks that bloom’d vor me!
 
But hardly did they times begin,
     Avore I vound em short to stay:
An’ year by year do now come in,
     To peaert me wider vrom my jay,
Vor what’s to meet, or what’s to peaert,
Wi’ maidens kind, or maidens smart,
When hope’s noo longer in the heart,
     An’ cheaeks noo mwore do bloom vor me!
 
But there’s a worold still to bless
     The good, where zickness never rose;
An’ there’s a year that’s winterless,
     Where glassy waters never vroze;
An’ there, if true but e’thly love
Do seem noo sin to God above,
‘S a smilen still my harmless dove,
 So feaeir as when she bloom’d vor me!

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