But still 'tis good, woonce now an' then To rove where moonlight on the land Do show in vaïn, vor heedless men, The road, the vield, the work in hand. When curtains be a-hung avore The glitt'rèn windows, snowy white, An' vine-leaf sheädes do sheäke in light O' moonlight on the door.
As in the cool-aïr'd road I come by, --in the night, Under the moon-clim'd height o' the sky, --in the night, There by the lime's broad lim's as I staÿ'd, Dark in the moonlight, bough's sheädows plaÿ'd Up on the window-glass that did keep Lew vrom the wind, my true love asleep, --in the night.
While in the grey-wall'd height o' the tow'r, --in the night, Sounded the midnight bell wi' the hour, --in the night, There lo! a bright-heäir'd angel that shed Light vrom her white robe's zilvery thread, Put her vore-vinger up vor to meäke Silence around lest sleepers mid weäke, --in the night.
"Oh! then," I whisper'd, do I behold --in the night. Linda, my true-love, here in the cwold, --in the night?" "No," she meäde answer, "you do misteäke: She is asleep, but I that do weäke, Here be on watch, an' angel a-blest, Over her slumber while she do rest, --in the night."
"Zee how the winds, while here by the bough, --in the night, They do pass on, don't smite on her brow, in the night; Zee how the cloud-sheädes naïseless do zweep Over the house-top where she's asleep. You, too, goo by, in times that be near, You too, as I, mid speak in her ear --in the night."
Ov all the meäds wi' shoals an' pools, Where streams did sheäke the limber zedge, An' milkèn vo'k did teäke their stools, In evenèn zun-light under hedge: Ov all the wears the brook did vill, Or all the hatches where a sheet O' foam did leäp below woone's veet, The pleäce vor me wer Leeburn Mill.
An' while below the mossy wheel All day the foamèn stream did roar, An' up in mill the floatèn meal Did pitch upon the sheäkèn vloor. We then could vind but vew han's still, Or veet a-restèn off the ground, An' seldom hear the merry sound O' geämes a-play'd at Leeburn Mill.
But when they let the stream goo free, Bezide the drippèn wheel at rest, An' leaves upon the poplar-tree Wer dark avore the glowèn west; An' when the clock, a-ringèn sh'ill, Did slowly beät zome evenèn hour, Oh! then 'ithin the leafy bow'r Our tongues did run at Leeburn Mill.