tle playsome chile,
A-zent away a thousand mile,
Should never meet her eyes to smile
An' play ageaen; till she, in sheaeme,
Should die an' leaeve a tarnish'd neaeme,
A sad vorseaeken leaedy.

"Let me be lost," she cried, "the while
I do but know vor my poor chile;"
An' left the hwome ov all her pride,
To wander drough the worold wide,
Wi' grief that vew but she ha' tried:
An' lik' a flow'r a blow ha' broke,
She wither'd wi' the deadly stroke,
An' died a weepen leaedy.

An' she do keep a-comen on
To zee her father dead an' gone,
As if her soul could have noo rest
Avore her teaery cheaek's a-prest
By his vorgiven kiss. Zoo blest
Be they that can but live in love,
An' vind a pleaece o' rest above
Unlik' the weepen leaedy.

THE HAPPY DAYS WHEN I WER YOUNG.

In happy days when I wer young,
An' had noo ho, an' laugh'd an' zung,
The maid wer merry by her cow,
An' men wer merry wi' the plough;
But never talk'd, at hwome or out
O' doors, o' what's a-talk'd about
By many now,--that to despise
The laws o' God an' man is wise.
Wi' daily health, an' daily bread,
An' thatch above their shelter'd head,
They velt noo fear, an' had noo spite,
To keep their eyes awake at night;
But slept in peace wi' God on high
An' man below, an' fit to die.

O' grassy meaed an' woody nook,
An' waters o' the winden brook,
That sprung below the vu'st dark sky
That rain'd, to run till seas be dry;
An' hills a-stannen on while all
The works o' man do rise an' vall;
An' trees the toddlen child do vind
At vu'st, an' leaeve at last behind;
I wish that you could now unvwold
The peace an' jaey o' times o' wold;
An' tell, when death do still my tongue,
O' happy days when I wer young.
Vrom where wer all this venom brought,
To kill our hope an' taint our thought?
Clear brook! thy water coulden bring
Such venom vrom thy rocky spring;
Nor could it come in zummer blights,
Or reaeven storms o' winter nights,
Or in the cloud an' viry stroke
O' thunder that do split the woak.

O valley dear! I wish that I
'D a-liv'd in former times, to die
Wi' all the happy souls that trod
Thy turf in peaece, an' died to God;
Or gone wi' them that laugh'd an' zung
In happy days when I wer young!

IN THE STILLNESS O' THE NIGHT.

Ov all the housen o' the pleaece,
There's woone where I do