Where the bridge out at Woodley did stride,
Wi' his wide arches' cool sheäded bow,
Up above the clear brook that did slide
By the popples, befoam'd white as snow:
As the gilcups did quiver among
The white deäisies, a-spread in a sheet.
There a quick-trippen maid come along, —
Aye, a girl wi' her light-steppen veet.

An' she cried " I do praÿè, is the road
Out to Lincham on here, by the meäd? "
An' " oh! ees, " I meäde answer, an' show'd
Her the way it would turn an' would leäd:
" Goo along by the beech in the nook,
Where the children do plaÿè in the cool,
To the steppen stwones over the brook, —
Aye, the grey blocks o' rock at the pool. "

" Then you don't seem a-born an' a-bred, "
I spoke up, " at a place here about; "
An' she answer'd wi' cheäks up so red
As a pi'ny but leäte a-come out,
" No, I liv'd wi' my uncle that died
Back in Eäpril, an' now I'm a-come
Here to Ham, to my mother, to bide, —
Aye, to her house to vind a new hwome. "

I'm asheämed that I wanted to know
Any mwore of her childhood or life,
But then, why should so feäir a child grow
Where noo father did bide wi' his wife;
Then wi' blushes of zunrisen morn,
She replied " that it midden be known,
" Oh! they zent me awaÿè to be born, —
Aye, they hid me when zome would be shown. "

Oh! it meäde me a'most teary-ey'd,
An' I vound I a'most could ha' groan'd —
What! so winnen, an' still cast a-zide —
What! so lovely, an' not to be own'd;
Oh! a God-gift a-treated wi' scorn,
Oh! a child that a squier should own;
An' to zend her awaÿè to be born! —
Aye, to hide her where others be shown!