In zummer, leäte at evenèn 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-risèn to her comely height,
She push'd the swingèn ceäsement round;
And I could hear, beyond my zight,
The win'-blow'd beech-tree softly sound,
On higher ground, a-swayèn slow,
On drough my happy hour below.
An' tho' the darkness then did hide
The dewy rwose's blushèn bloom,
He still did cast sweet aïr inside
To Jeäne, a-chattèn in the room;
An' though the gloom did hide her feäce,
Her words did bind me to the pleäce.
An' there, while she, wi' runnèn 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 feäce by mornèn light.
