ad;
The while a rwose hung white between
Her blushes an' the laurel's green;
An' then in Fall, I went along
The row of elems in the drong,
An' heaerd her zing bezide the cows,
By yollow leaves o' meaeple boughs;
But Fall or Spring is feaeir to view
When day do bring me--I know who.

An' when, wi' wint'r a-comen roun',
The purple he'th's a-feaeden brown,
An' hangen vern's a-sheaeken dead,
Bezide the hill's besheaeded head:
An' black-wing'd rooks do glitter bright
Above my head, in peaeler light;
Then though the birds do still the glee
That sounded in the zummer tree,
My heart is light the winter drough,
In me'th at night, wi'--I know who.

JESSIE LEE.

Above the timber's benden sh'ouds,
The western wind did softly blow;
An' up avore the knap, the clouds
Did ride as white as driven snow.
Vrom west to east the clouds did zwim
Wi' wind that plied the elem's lim';
Vrom west to east the stream did glide,
A-sheenen wide, wi' winden brim.

How feaeir, I thought, avore the sky
The slowly-zwimmen clouds do look;
How soft the win's a-streamen by;
How bright do roll the weaevy brook:
When there, a-passen on my right,
A-waiken slow, an' treaden light,
Young Jessie Lee come by, an' there
Took all my ceaere, an' all my zight.

Vor lovely wer the looks her feaece
Held up avore the western sky:
An' comely wer the steps her peaece
Did meaeke a-walken slowly by:
But I went east, wi' beaeten breast,
Wi' wind, an' cloud, an' brook, vor rest,
Wi' rest a-lost, vor Jessie gone
So lovely on, toward the west.

Blow on, O winds, athirt the hill;
Zwim on, O clouds; O waters vall,
Down maeshy rocks, vrom mill to mill;
I now can overlook ye all.
But roll, O zun, an' bring to me
My day, if such a day there be,
When zome dear path to my abode
Shall be the road o' Jessie Lee.

TRUE LOVE.

As evenen air, in green-treed Spring,
Do sheaeke the new-sprung pa'sley bed,
An' wither'd ash-tree keys do swing
An' vall a-flutt'ren roun' our head:
There, while the birds do zing their zong
In bushes down the ash-tree drong,
Come Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaece
Your vaice an' feaece can meaeke vor me.

Below the budden ashes' height
We there can linger in the lew,
While boughs, a-gilded by the light,
Do sheen avore the sky o' blue:
But there by zetten zun, or moon
A-r