While down the meäds wound slow,
Water vor green-wheel'd mills,
Over the streams bright bow,
Win' come vrom dark-back'd hills.
Birds on the win' shot along down steep
Slopes, wi' a swift-swung zweep.
Dim weän'd the red streak'd west
Lim'-weary souls "Good rest."
Up on the plough'd hill brow,
Still wer the zull's wheel'd beam,
Still wer the red-wheel'd plough,
Free o' the strong limb'd team,
Still wer the shop that the smith meäde ring,
Dark where the sparks did spring;
Low shot the zun's last beams.
Lim'-weary souls "Good dreams."
Where I vrom dark bank-sheädes
Turn'd up the west hill road,
Where all the green grass bleädes
Under the zunlight glow'd.
Startled I met, as the zunbeams play'd
Light, wi' a zunsmote maïd,
Come vor my day's last zight,
Zun-brighten'd maïd "Good night."
