The trees would still be company.

A PLEAeCE IN ZIGHT.

As I at work do look aroun'
Upon the groun' I have in view,
To yonder hills that still do rise
Avore the skies, wi' backs o' blue;
'Ithin the ridges that do vall
An' rise roun' Blackmwore lik' a wall,
'Tis yonder knap do teaeke my zight
Vrom dawn till night, the mwost ov all.

An' there, in May, 'ithin the lewth
O' boughs in blooth, be sheaedy walks,
An' cowslips up in yollow beds
Do hang their heads on downy stalks;
An' if the weather should be feaeir
When I've a holiday to speaere,
I'll teaeke the chance o' getten drough
An hour or two wi' zome vo'k there.

An' there I now can dimly zee
The elem-tree upon the mound,
An' there meaeke out the high-bough'd grove
An' narrow drove by Redcliff ground;
An' there by trees a-risen tall,
The glowen zunlight now do vall,
Wi' shortest sheaedes o' middle day,
Upon the gray wold house's wall.

An' I can zee avore the sky
A-risen high the churches speer,
Wi' bells that I do goo to swing,
An' like to ring, an' like to hear;
An' if I've luck upon my zide,
They bells shall sound bwoth loud an' wide,
A peal above they slopes o' gray,
Zome merry day wi' Jeaene a bride.

GWAIN TO BROOKWELL.

At Easter, though the wind wer high,
We vound we had a zunny sky,
An' zoo wold Dobbin had to trudge
His dousty road by knap an' brudge,
An' jog, wi' hangen vetterlocks
A-sheaeken roun' his heavy hocks,
An' us, a lwoad not much too small,
A-riden out to Brookwell Hall;
An' there in doust vrom Dobbin's heels,
An' green light-waggon's vower wheels,
Our merry laughs did loudly sound,
In rollen winds athirt the ground;
While sheenen-ribbons' color'd streaeks
Did flutter roun' the maidens' cheaeks,
As they did zit, wi' smilen lips,
A-reachen out their vinger-tips
Toward zome teaeken pleaece or zight
That they did shew us, left or right;
An' woonce, when Jimmy tried to pleaece
A kiss on cousin Polly's feaece,
She push'd his hat, wi' wicked leers,
Right off above his two red ears,
An' there he roll'd along the groun'
Wi' spreaden brim an' rounded crown,
An' vound, at last, a cowpon's brim,
An' launch'd hizzelf, to teaeke a zwim;
An' there, as Jim did run to catch
His neaeked noddle's bit o' thatch,
To zee his strainens an' his strides,
We laugh'd enough to split our zides.
A