Once more the reaper in the gleam of dawn

Will see me by the landmark far away, Blessing his field, or seated in the dusk Of even, by the lonely threshing-floor, Rejoicing in the harvest and the grange. Yet I, Earth-Goddess, am but illcontent

With them, who still are highest. Those gray heads,

What meant they by their 'Fate beyond the Fates'

But younger kindlier Gods to bear us down,

As we bore down the Gods before us? Gods,

To quench, not hurl the thunderbolt, to stay,

Not spread the plague, the famine; Gods indeed,

To send the noon into the night and break

The sunless halls of Hades into Heaven? Till thy dark lord accept and love the Sun,

And all the Shadow die into the Light, When thou shalt dwell the whole bright year with me,

And souls of men, who grew beyond their race,

And made themselves as Gods against the fear

Of Death and Hell; and thou that hast from men,

As Queen of Death, that worship which is Fear,

Henceforth, as having risen from out the dead,

Shalt ever send thy life along with mine From buried grain thro' springing blade,

and bless

Fur I wants to tell tha o' Roä when we lived i' Howlaby Daäle,

Ten year sin'- Naäy-naäy! tha mun

nobbut hev' one glass of aäle. Straänge an' owd-farran'd the 'ouse, an' belt long afoor my daäy Wi' haäfe o' the chimleys a-twizzen'd an' twined like a band o' haäy.

The fellers as maäkes them picturs, 'ud coom at the fall o' the year, An' sattle their ends upo' stools to pictur the door-poorch theere,

An' the Heagle 'as hed two heäds stannin' theere o' the brokken stick; 7

An' they niver 'ed seed sich ivin' as graw'd hall ower the brick;

Theere, when the 'ouse wur a house, one night I wur sittin' aloän,

Wi' Roäver athurt my feeät, an' sleeäpin still as a stoän,

Of a Christmas Eäve, an' as cowd as
this, an' the midders as white,
An' the fences all on 'em bolster'd oop
wi' the windle that night;

An' the cat wur a-sleeäpin alongside
Roäver, but I wur awaäke,
An' smoäkin' an' thinkin' o' things-
Doänt maäke thysen sick wi' the
caäke.

Fur the men ater supper 'ed sung their songs an' 'ed 'ed their beer, An' 'ed goän their waäys; ther was nob

but three, an' noän on 'em theere. They was all on 'em fear'd o' the Ghoäst

an' dussn't not sleeäp i' the 'ouse, But Dicky, the Ghoäst moästlins was nobbut a rat or a mouse.

An' I looökt out wonst at the night, an' the daäle was all of a thaw, Fur I seed the beck coomin' down like a long black snaäke i' the snaw,

An' I heard great heaps o' the snaw slushin' down fro' the bank to the beck,

An' then as I stood i' the doorwaäy, I feeäld it drip o' my neck.

Saw I turn'd in ageän, an' I thowt o'

the good owd times 'at was goän, An' the munney they maäde by the war, an' the times 'at was coomin' on; Fur I thowt if the Staäte was a-gawin' to let in furriners' wheät, Howiver was British farmers to stan' ageän o' their feeät.