Dear lilac-tree, a-spreadèn wide Thy purple blooth on ev'ry zide, As if the hollow sky did shed Its blue upon thy flow'ry head; Oh! whether I mid sheäre wi' thee Thy open aïr, my bloomèn tree, Or zee thy blossoms vrom the gloom, 'Ithin my zunless workèn-room, My heart do leäp, but leäp wi' sighs, At zight o' thee avore my eyes, For when thy grey-blue head do swaÿ In cloudless light, 'tis Spring, 'tis Maÿ.
'Tis Spring, 'tis Maÿ, as Maÿ woonce shed His glowèn light above thy head-- When thy green boughs, wi' bloomy tips, Did sheäde my childern's laughèn lips; A-screenèn vrom the noonday gleäre Their rwosy cheäks an' glossy heäir; The while their mother's needle sped, Too quick vor zight, the snow-white thread, Unless her han', wi' lovèn ceäre, Did smooth their little heads o' heäir;
Or wi' a sheäke, tie up anew Vor zome wild voot, a slippèn shoe; An' I did leän bezide thy mound Ageän the deäsy-dappled ground, The while the woaken clock did tick My hour o' rest away too quick, An' call me off to work anew, Wi' slowly-ringèn strokes, woone, two.
Zoo let me zee noo darksome cloud Bedim to-day thy flow'ry sh'oud, But let en bloom on ev'ry spraÿ, Drough all the days o' zunny Maÿ.
'Twer out at Penley I'd a-past A zummer day that went too vast, An' when the zettèn zun did spread On western clouds a vi'ry red; The elems' leafy limbs wer still Above the gravel-bedded rill, An' under en did warble sh'ill, Avore the dusk, the blackbird.
An' there, in sheädes o' darksome yews, Did vlee the maïdens on their tooes, A-laughèn sh'ill wi' merry feäce When we did vind their hidèn pleäce. 'Ithin the loose-bough'd ivys gloom, Or lofty lilac, vull in bloom, Or hazzle-wrides that gi'ed em room Below the zingèn blackbird.
Above our heads the rooks did vlee To reach their nested elem-tree, An' splashèn vish did rise to catch The wheelèn gnots above the hatch; An' there the miller went along, A-smilèn, up the sheädy drong, But yeet too deaf to hear the zong A-zung us by the blackbird.
An' there the sh'illy-bubblèn brook Did leäve behind his rocky nook, To run drough meäds a-chill'd wi' dew, Vrom hour to hour the whole night drough; But still his murmurs wer a-drown'd By vaïces that mid never sound Ageän together on that ground, Wi' whislèns o' the blackbird.