Classic Poem

Between the traveller and the setting sun,
Upon some drifting sand heap of the shore,
A hound stands o'er the carcass of a man.

Waters, drough the meäds a-purlen,
Glissen'd in the evenen's light,
An' smoke, above the town a-curlen,
Melted slowly out o' zight;
An' there, in glooms
Ov unzunn'd rooms,
To zome, wi' idle sorrows fretten,
Zuns did set avore their zetten.

We were out in geämes and reäces,
Loud a-laughen, wild in me'th,
Wi' windblown heäir, an' zunbrowned feäces,
Leäpen on the high-sky'd e'th,
Avore the lights
Wer tin'd o' nights,
An' while the gossamer's light netten
Sparkled to the zun a-zetten.