pon her lowly seat, O;
A hood did overhang her brow,
Her pail wer at her veet, O;
An' she wer kind, an' she wer feaeir,
An' she wer young, an' free o' ceaere;
Vew winters had a-blow'd her heaeir,
Bezide the Winter's Willow.

She idden woone a-rear'd in town
Where many a gayer lass, O,
Do trip a-smilen up an' down,
So peaele wi' smoke an' gas, O;
But here, in vields o' greaezen herds,
Her vaeice ha' mingled sweetest words
Wi' evenen cheaerms o' busy birds,
Bezide the Winter's Willow.

An' when, at last, wi' beaeten breast,
I knock'd avore her door, O,
She ax'd me in to teaeke the best
O' pleaeces on the vloor, O;
An' smilen feaeir avore my zight,
She blush'd bezide the yollow light
O' bleaezen brands, while winds o' night
Do sheaeke the Winter's Willow.

An' if there's readship in her smile,
She don't begrudge to speaere, O,
To zomebody, a little while,
The empty woaken chair, O;
An' if I've luck upon my zide,
Why, I do think she'll be my bride
Avore the leaves ha' twice a-died
Upon the Winter's Willow.

Above the coach-wheels' rollen rims
She never rose to ride, O,
Though she do zet her comely lim's
Above the mare's white zide, O;
But don't become too proud to stoop
An' scrub her milken pail's white hoop,
Or zit a-milken where do droop,
The wet-stemm'd Winter's Willow.

An' I've a cow or two in leaeze,
Along the river-zide, O,
An' pails to zet avore her knees,
At dawn an' evenen-tide, O;
An' there she still mid zit, an' look
Athirt upon the woody nook
Where vu'st I zeed her by the brook
Bezide the Winter's Willow.

Zoo, who would heed the treeless down,
A-beaet by all the storms, O,
Or who would heed the busy town,
Where vo'k do goo in zwarms, O;
If he wer in my house below
The elems, where the vier did glow
In Liddy's feaece, though winds did blow
Ageaen the Winter's Willow.

I KNOW WHO.

Aye, aye, vull rathe the zun mus' rise
To meaeke us tired o' zunny skies,
A-sheenen on the whole day drough,
From mornen's dawn till evenen's dew.
When trees be brown an' meaeds be green,
An' skies be blue, an' streams do sheen,
An' thin-edg'd clouds be snowy white
Above the bluest hills in zight;
But I can let the daylight goo,
When I've a-met wi'--I know who.

In Spring I met her by a bed
O' laurels higher than her he