Slow To Come, Quick Agone

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Ah! there's a house that I do know
  Besouth o' yonder trees,
  Where northern winds can hardly blow
  But in a softest breeze.
  An' there woonce sounded zongs an' teäles
  Vrom vaïce o' maïd or youth,
  An' sweeter than the nightèngeäle's
  Above the copses lewth.

  How swiftly there did run the brooks,
  How swift wer winds in flight,
  How swiftly to their roost the rooks
  Did vlee o'er head at night.
  Though slow did seem to us the peäce
  O' comèn days a-head,
  That now do seem as in a reäce
  Wi' aïr-birds to ha' vled.

© William Barnes