her,
The vaeice ov her talken,
Or bring vrom her veet the light doust,
She do tread in the Spring.

O zun, meaeke the gil'cups all glitter,
In goold all around her;
An' meaeke o' the deaeisys' white flowers
A bed in the Spring.

O whissle gay birds, up bezide her,
In drong-way, an' woodlands,
O zing, swingen lark, now the clouds,
Be a-vled in the Spring.

An' who, you mid ax, be my praises
A-meaeken so much o',
An' oh! 'tis the maid I'm a-hopen
To wed in the Spring.

THE FLOOD IN SPRING.

Last night below the elem in the lew
Bright the sky did gleam
On water blue, while air did softly blow
On the flowen stream,
An' there wer gil'cups' buds untwold,
An' deaeisies that begun to vwold
Their low-stemm'd blossoms vrom my zight
Ageaen the night, an' evenen's cwold.

But, oh! so cwold below the darksome cloud
Soon the night-wind roar'd,
Wi' rainy storms that zent the zwollen streams
Over ev'ry vword.
The while the drippen tow'r did tell
The hour, wi' storm-be-smother'd bell,
An' over ev'ry flower's bud
Roll'd on the flood, 'ithin the dell.

But when the zun arose, an' lik' a rwose
Shone the mornen sky;
An' roun' the woak, the wind a-blowen weak,
Softly whiver'd by.
Though drown'd wer still the deaisy bed
Below the flood, its feaece instead
O' flow'ry grown', below our shoes
Show'd feaeirest views o' skies o'er head.

An' zoo to try if all our faith is true
Jay mid end in tears,
An' hope, woonce feaeir, mid sadden into fear,
Here in e'thly years.
But He that tried our soul do know
To meaeke us good amends, an' show
Instead o' things a-took away,
Some higher jay that He'll bestow.

COMEN HWOME.

As clouds did ride wi' heaesty flight.
An' woods did swaey upon the height,
An' bleaedes o' grass did sheaeke, below
The hedge-row bremble's swingen bow,
I come back hwome where winds did zwell,
In whirls along the woody gleaedes,
On primrwose beds, in windy sheaedes,
To Burnley's dark-tree'd dell.

There hills do screen the timber's bough,
The trees do screen the leaeze's brow,
The timber-sheaeded leaeze do bear
A beaeten path that we do wear.
The path do stripe the leaeze's zide,
To willows at the river's edge.
Where hufflen winds did sheaeke the zedge
An' sparklen weaeves did glide.

An' where the