The Year-Clock

We zot bezide the leaefy wall,Upon the bench at evenfall,While aunt led off our minds vrom ceaereWi' veaeiry teaeles, I can't tell where:An' vound us woone among her stockO' feaebles, o' the girt Year-clock.His feaece wer blue's the zummer skies,An' wide's the zight o' looken eyes,For hands, a zun wi' glowen feaece,An' peaeler moon wi' swifter peaece,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' sheaedes a-marken on the hours;An' as the feaece, a-rollen round,Brought comely sheaepes along the ground.The Spring did come in winsome steaeteBelow a glowen rainbow geaete;An' fan wi' air a-blowen weak,Her glossy heaeir, an' rwosy cheaek,As she did shed vrom oben hand,The leaepen zeed on vurrow'd land;The while the rook, wi' heaesty flight,A-floaten in the glowen light,Did bear avore her glossy breastA stick to build her lofty nest,An' strong-limb'd Tweil, wi' steady hands,Did guide along the vallow landsThe heavy zull, wi' bright-sheaer'd beam,Avore the weaery oxen team,Wi' Spring a-gone there come behindSweet Zummer, jay ov ev'ry mind,Wi' feaece a-beamen to beguileOur weaery souls ov ev'ry tweil.While birds did warble in the dellIn softest air o' sweetest smell;An' she, so winsome-feaeir did vwoldHer comely limbs in green an' goold,An' wear a rwosy wreath, wi' studsO' berries green, an' new-born buds,A-fring'd in colours vier-bright,Wi' sheaepes o' buttervlees in flight.When Zummer went, the next ov allDid come the sheaepe o' brown-feaec'd Fall,A-smilen in a comely gownO' green, a-shot wi' yellow-brown,A-border'd wi' a goolden stripeO' fringe, a-meaede o' corn-ears ripe,An' up ageaen her comely zide,Upon her rounded eaerm, did rideA perty basket, all a-twin'dO' slender stems wi' leaves an' rind,A-vill'd wi' fruit the trees did shed,All ripe, in purple, goold, an' red;An' busy Leaebor there did comeA-zingen zongs ov harvest hwome,An' red-ear'd dogs did briskly runRoun' cheervul Leisure wi' his gun,Or stan' an' mark, wi' stedvast zight,The speckled pa'tridge rise in flight.An' next ageaen to mild-feaec'd FallDid come peaele Winter, last ov all,A-benden down, in thoughtvul mood,Her head 'ithin a snow-white hoodA-deck'd wi' icy-jewels, brightAn' cwold as twinklen stars o' night;An' there wer weary Leaebor, slackO' veet to keep her vrozen track,A-looken off, wi' wistful eyes,To reefs o' smoke, that there did riseA-melten to the peaele-feaec'd zun,Above the houses' lofty tun.An' there the girt Year-clock did gooBy day an' night, vor ever true,Wi' mighty wheels a-rollen round'Ithout a beaet, 'ithout a sound.