isen, time wull vlee too soon
Wi' Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaece
Her vaice an' feaece can meaeke vor me.

Down where the darksome brook do flow,
Below the bridge's arched wall,
Wi' alders dark, a-leanen low,
Above the gloomy watervall;
There I've a-led ye hwome at night,
Wi' noo feaece else 'ithin my zight
But yours so feaeir, an' sweet's the pleaece
Your vaice an' feaece ha' meaede me there.

An' oh! when other years do come,
An' zetten zuns, wi' yollow gleaere,
Drough western window-peaenes, at hwome,
Do light upon my evenen chair:
While day do weaene, an' dew do vall,
Be wi' me then, or else in call,
As time do vlee, vor sweet's the pleaece
Your vaice an' feaece do meaeke vor me.

Ah! you do smile, a-thinken light
O' my true words, but never mind;
Smile on, smile on, but still your flight
Would leaeve me little jay behind:
But let me not be zoo a-tried
Wi' you a-lost where I do bide,
O Jessie Lee, in any pleaece
Your vaice an' feaece ha' blest vor me.

I'm sure that when a soul's a-brought
To this our life ov air an' land,
Woone mwore's a-mark'd in God's good thought,
To help, wi' love, his heart an' hand.
An' oh! if there should be in store
An angel here vor my poor door,
'Tis Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaece
Her vaice an' feace can meaeke vor me.

THE BEAN VIELD.

'Twer where the zun did warm the lewth,
An' win' did whiver in the sheaede,
The sweet-air'd beaens were out in blooth,
Down there 'ithin the elem gleaede;
A yollow-banded bee did come,
An' softly-pitch, wi' hushen hum,
Upon a beaen, an' there did sip,
Upon a swayen blossom's lip:
An' there cried he, "Aye, I can zee,
This blossom's all a-zent vor me."

A-jilted up an' down, astride
Upon a lofty ho'se a-trot,
The meaester then come by wi' pride,
To zee the beaens that he'd a-got;
An' as he zot upon his ho'se,
The ho'se ageaen did snort an' toss
His high-ear'd head, an' at the zight
Ov all the blossom, black an' white:
"Ah! ah!" thought he, the seaeme's the bee,
"Theaese beaens be all a-zent vor me."

Zoo let the worold's riches breed
A strife o' claims, wi' weak and strong,
Vor now what cause have I to heed
Who's in the right, or in the wrong;
Since there do come drough yonder hatch,
An' bloom below the house's thatch,
The best o' maidens, an' do own
That she is mine, an' mine alwone: