A Maÿtide's evenèn wer a-dyèn,
Under moonsheen, into night,
Wi' a streamèn wind a-sighèn
By the thorns a-bloomèn white.
Where in sheäde, a-zinkèn deeply,
Wer a nook, all dark but lew,
By a bank, arisèn steeply,
Not to let the win' come drough.
Should my love goo out, a-showèn
All her smiles, in open light;
Or, in lewth, wi' wind a-blowèn,
Staÿ in darkness, dim to zight?
Staÿ in sheäde o' bank or wallèn,
In the warmth, if not in light;
Words alwone vrom her a-vallèn,
Would be jaÿ vor all the night.