The Year Clock

We zot bezide the leafy wall, Upon the bench at evenfall, While aunt led off our minds wrom ceare Wi' veairy teales, I can't tell where, An' vound us woone among her stock O' feables, o' the gert Year-clock. His feace wer blue's the zummer skies, An' wide's the zight o'looken eyes, For hands, a zun wi' glowen feace, An' pealer moon wi' swifter peace, Did wheel by stars o' twinklen light, By bright-wall'd day, an' dark-treed night; An' down upon the high-sky'd land, A'reachen wide, on either hand, Wer hill an' dell, wi' win'-sway'd trees, An' lights a'zweepen over seas, An' gleamen cliffs, an' bright-wall'd tow'rs, Wi' sheades a-marken on the hours; An' as the feace, a-rollen round, Brought comely sheapes along the ground, The Spring did come in winsome steate Below a glowen rainbow geate; An' fan wi' air a-blowen weak, Her glossy heair, an' rwosy cheak, As she did shed vrom open hand, The leapen zeed on vurrow'd land; The while the rook, wi' heasty flight, A-floaten in the glowen light, Did bear avore her glossy breast A stick to build her lofty nest, An' strong-limbed Tweil, wi' steady hands, Did guide along the vallow lands The heavy zull, wi' bright-shear'd beam, Avore the weary oxen-team. Wi' Spring a-gone there come behind Sweet Zummer, jay on ev'ry mind, Wi' feace a-beamen to beguile Our weary souls ov ev'ry tweil, While birds did warble in the dell, In softest air o' sweetest smell; An' she, so winsome-feair did vwold Her comely limbs in green an' goold, An' wear a rwosy wreath, wi' studs O' berries green, an' new-born buds, A-fring'd in colours vier-bright, Wi' sheapes o'buttervlies in flight. When Summer went, the next ov all Did come the sheape o' brown-feac'd Fall, A-smile in a comely gown O'green, a-shot wi' yollow-brown, A-border'd wi' a goolden stripe O'fringe, a-meade o' corn-ears ripe, An' up agean her comely zide, Upon her rounded earm, did ride A pretty basket, all a-twin'd O' slender stems wi' leaves an' rind, A-vill'd wi' fruit the trees did shed, All ripe, in purple, goold an' red; An' busy Leabor there did come A-zingen zongs ov harvest hwome, An' red-ear'd dogs did briskly run Roun' cheervul Leisure, wi' his gun, Or stan' an' mark, wi' stedvast zight, The speckled pa'tridge rise in flight. An' next agean to mild-feac'd Fall Did come peale Winter, last ov all, A-benden down, in thoughtvul mood, Her head 'ithin a snow-white hood, A-deck'd wi' icy-jewels bright, An' cwold as twinklen stars o' night; An' there were weary Leabor, slack O' veet to keep her vrozen track, A-looken off, wi' wistful eyes, To reefs o'smoke, that there did rise A-melten to the peale-feac'd zun, Above the houses' lofty tun. An' there the gert Year-clock did goo By day an' night, vor ever true, Wi' mighty wheels a-rollen round 'Ithout a beat, 'ithout a sound.