n'd house did stand,
Where he did meaeke the water clim'
A bank, an' sparkle under dim
Bridge arches, villen to the brim
His pon', an' leaepen, white as snow,
Vrom rocks a-glitt'ren in a bow,
An' runnen down to gramfer's.

An' now woone wing is all you'd vind
O' thik girt house a-left behind;
An' only woone wold stwonen tun
'S a-stannen to the rain an' zun,--
An' all's undone that he'd a-done;
The brook ha' now noo call to stay
To vill his pon' or clim' his bay,
A-runnen down to gramfer's.

When woonce, in heavy rain, the road
At Grenley bridge wer overflow'd,
Poor Sophy White, the pleaeces pride,
A-gwain vrom market, went to ride
Her pony droo to tother zide;
But vound the stream so deep an' strong,
That took her off the road along
The hollow down to gramfer's.

'Twer dark, an' she went on too vast
To catch hold any thing she pass'd;
Noo bough hung over to her hand,
An' she could reach noo stwone nor land,
Where woonce her little voot could stand;
Noo ears wer out to hear her cries,
Nor wer she woonce a-zeen by eyes,
Till took up dead at gramfer's.

SLEEP DID COME WI' THE DEW.

O when our zun's a-zinken low,
How soft's the light his feaece do drow
Upon the backward road our mind
Do turn an' zee a-left behind;
When we, in childhood's days did vind
Our jay among the gil'cup flow'rs,
All drough the zummer's zunny hours;
An' sleep did come wi' the dew.

An' afterwards, when we did zweat
A tweilen in the zummer het,
An' when our daily work wer done
Did meet to have our evenen fun:
Till up above the zetten zun
The sky wer blushen in the west,
An' we laid down in peace to rest,
An' sleep did come wi' the dew.

Ah! zome do turn--but tidden right--
The night to day, an' day to night;
But we do zee the vu'st red streak
O' mornen, when the day do break;
Zoo we don't grow up peaele an' weak,
But we do work wi' health an' strength,
Vrom mornen drough the whole day's length,
An' sleep do come wi' the dew.

An' when, at last, our e'thly light
Is jist a-drawen in to night,
We mid be sure that God above,
If we be true when he do prove
Our stedvast faith an' thankvul love,
Wull do vor us what mid be best,
An' teaeke us into endless rest,
As sleep do come wi' the dew.

SWEET MUSIC IN THE WIND.

When evenen is a-drawen in,
I'll