Òåêñò îðèãèíàëà íà àíãëèéñêîì ÿçûêå First Collection. Sundry Pieces. The Rwose that Deck’d her Breast Poor Jenny wer her Robert’s bride Two happy years, an’ then he died; An’ zoo the wold vo’k meäde her come, Vorseäken, to her maïden hwome. But Jenny’s merry tongue wer dum’; An’ round her comely neck she wore A murnèn kerchif, where avore The rwose did deck her breast. She walk’d alwone, wi’ eye-balls wet, To zee the flow’rs that she’d a-zet; The lilies, white’s her maïden frocks, The spike, to put ’ithin her box, Wi’ columbines an’ hollyhocks; The jilliflow’r an’ noddèn pink, An’ rwose that touch’d her soul to think Ov woone that deck’d her breast. Vor at her weddèn, just avore Her maïden hand had yet a-wore A wife’s goold ring, wi’ hangèn head She walk’d along thik flower-bed, Where stocks did grow, a-staïned wi’ red, An’ meärygoolds did skirt the walk, An’ gather’d vrom the rwose’s stalk A bud to deck her breast. An’ then her cheak, wi’ youthvul blood Wer bloomèn as the rwoses bud; But now, as she wi’ grief do pine, ’Tis peäle’s the milk-white jessamine. But Robert have a-left behine A little beäby wi’ his feäce, To smile, an’ nessle in the pleäce Where the rwose did deck her breast. |
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