The Clote (Water-Lily)

O zummer clote! when the brook’ s a-glidèn
So slow an’ smooth down his zedgy bed,
Upon thy broad leaves so seäfe a-ridèn
The water’ s top wi’ thy yollow head,
By alder sheädes, O,
An’ bulrush beds, O,
Thou then dost float, goolden zummer clote!

The grey-bough’ d withy’ s a leänèn lowly
Above the water thy leaves do hide;
The bènden bulrush, a-swaÿèn slowly,
Do skirt in zummer thy river’ s zide;
An’ perch in shoals, O,
Do vill the holes, O,
Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!

Oh! when thy brook-drinkèn flow’ r’ s a-blowèn,
The burnèn zummer’ s a-zettèn in;
The time o’ greenness, the time o’ mowèn,
When in the häy-vield, wi’ zunburnt skin,
The vo’ k do drink, O,
Upon the brink, O,
Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!

Wi’ eärms a-spreadèn, an’ cheäks a-blowèn,
How proud wer I when I vu’ st could swim
Athirt the deep pleäce where thou bist growèn,
Wi’ thy long more vrom the bottom dim;
While cows, knee-high, O,
In brook, wer nigh, O,
Where thou dost float, goolden zummer clote!

Ov all the brooks drough the meäds a-windèn,
Ov all the meäds by a river’ s brim,
There’ s nwone so feäir o’ my own heart’ s vindèn
As where the maïdens do zee thee zwim,
An’ stan’ to teäke, O,
Wi’ long-stemm’ d reäke, O,
Thy flow’ r afloat, goolden zummer clote!