th or comeliness
Do leaeve us long. The house do show
Men's sons wi' mwore, as they ha' less,
An' daughters brisk, vor mothers slow.
A dawn do clear the night's dim sky,
Woone star do zink, an' woone goo high,
An' liven gifts o' youth do vall,
Vrom girt to small, but never die:
An' should I view,
What God mid do,
Wi' jay or pain, wi' pain or jay?

THE RWOSE IN THE DARK.

In zummer, leaete at evenen tide,
I zot to spend a moonless hour
'Ithin the window, wi' the zide
A-bound wi' rwoses out in flow'r,
Bezide the bow'r, vorsook o' birds,
An' listen'd to my true-love's words.

A-risen to her comely height,
She push'd the swingen ceaesement round;
And I could hear, beyond my zight,
The win'-blow'd beech-tree softly sound,
On higher ground, a-swayen slow,
On drough my happy hour below.

An' tho' the darkness then did hide
The dewy rwose's blushen bloom,
He still did cast sweet air inside
To Jeaene, a-chatten in the room;
An' though the gloom did hide her feaece,
Her words did bind me to the pleaece.

An' there, while she, wi' runnen tongue,
Did talk unzeen 'ithin the hall,
I thought her like the rwose that flung
His sweetness vrom his darken'd ball,
'Ithout the wall, an' sweet's the zight
Ov her bright feaece by mornen light.

COME.

Wull ye come in eaerly Spring,
Come at Easter, or in May?
Or when Whitsuntide mid bring
Longer light to show your way?
Wull ye come, if you be true,
Vor to quicken love anew.
Wull ye call in Spring or Fall?
Come now soon by zun or moon?
Wull ye come?

Come wi' vaice to vaice the while
All their words be sweet to hear;
Come that feaece to feaece mid smile,
While their smiles do seem so dear;
Come within the year to seek
Woone you have sought woonce a week?
Come while flow'rs be on the bow'rs.
And the bird o' zong's a-heaerd.
Wull ye come?

Ees come _to_ ye, an' come _vor_ ye, is my word,
I wull come.

ZUMMER WINDS.

Let me work, but mid noo tie
Hold me vrom the oben sky,
When zummer winds, in playsome flight,
Do blow on vields in noon-day light,
Or ruslen trees, in twilight night.
Sweet's a stroll,
By flow'ry knowl, or blue-feaeced pool
That zummer win's do ruffle cool.

When the moon's broad light do vill
Plains, a-sheenen down the